Ballad of the Musician
by Howlingwolf94
Summary: Allen was a boy raised in the circus by his father, Mana. Life had been simple and carefree, until one day, his life took an unexpected turn. Now, he must move forward if he is to learn the truth about his shady past. AU, reboot and rewrite of timeline
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own D. Gray-man in any way, shape, or form.**

Prologue

'_Put your faith in what you most believe in_

_Two worlds, one family_

_Trust your heart_

_Let fate decide_

_To guide these lives we see'_

_-Phil Collins: Two Worlds_

It was a cold and rainy night, one that was filled with countless storm clouds ready to burst any minute. The winds were howling and the thunder, roaring. All of which were drowning out the fact that a single man was running for his life. Well…not only his life, but for the life of the little bundle he had held in his arms. The life that would one day bring peace to the world and an end to this holy war.

Thankfully the child was still asleep, oblivious like he should be to what was happening in the world around him. At least that made things a whole lot easier. And that much more painful.

Heaving from the exertion, the figure took a brief moment to catch his breath, his lungs practically on fire as he leaned heavily against the side of a building. He was beyond tired, having ran almost 20 miles in under an hour without stopping. Even given his enhanced, superhuman abilities, he still had to find the time to recover his sputtering breath.

Dizzy and winded, the young man futilely wiped away the droplets of rain that happened to fall into his eyes, only serving to escalate his already rising annoyance. He couldn't have something as transient as falling rain be the thing that led him to his demise. Not while he still held onto the one thing he was both proud and ashamed to call his own. He couldn't stop…he had to keep walking.

"Must…keep moving," gasped the figure between breaths, little bursts of mist clouds forming with each wheeze he made. "Right, Mana?"

Snickering un-heartedly to no one but himself, he took another shot at ridding his eyes of the confounded droplets before he resumed his god awful sprint. He only had a little ways to go, just a few more miles until he reached his desired location. The tricky part was just getting there all in one piece. Well, if they could make it this far with neither of them scathed, then who's to say they couldn't make it for another measly 5 miles?

Fate that's who.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Mostly sliding along the cobble laden roads, the young man was becoming all the more desperate with each corner he took, the shadows playing on his paranoia. If he remembered correctly, he only had about 2 miles left until he made it to the place that would serve as the child's sanctum from then on. But a lot could happen in 2 miles, especially when it was still raining from the heavens and the cold was steadily getting worse.

Looking down at the still sleeping infant in his arms while pulling back lightly on some of the fabric that had been used to shield the child's face from the rain, a wan smile played across the young man's features. "Almost there little guy. Soon, this nightmare shall be put to rest."

"Why my dear, delusional Musician," seethed a voice that caused the young man to freeze on the spot, his body becoming as rigid as a board. With apprehension influencing his actions, he slowly craned his neck to the side as he looked over his shoulder, dreading what he might find. The act was utterly pointless, seeing as how he already knew who the speaker was, but he couldn't stop himself from doing so anyways. "It hasn't even begun…"

Standing behind him while twirling a pumpkin topped umbrella was a rotund man with a perpetual smile on his face. Though the anger in his eyes might help dissuade you from thinking that that smile was by any means jolly. If anything, it made him appear all the more insane, his eyes bulging as he chuckled heartedly to himself. There was nothing very funny about the situation though.

"Lord Millennium." Growled the young man as he drew the infant closer to his body, his arms shielding him from the view of the man he had once thought of as his 'brother'. Well, it wasn't so much that he thought it, more like the Noah genes that flowed within his veins did. Even so, he still despised the man he had once been very close to.

"You've proven to be quite a nuisance fallen Noah, one that has cost this family very dearly." Stated the Earl blatantly as his pumpkin topped umbrella transformed into a large, black broadsword, a white cross being the only distinguishing feature of the blade. "Farewell my Musician."

Springing forward, the clownish man drew back his sword as he prepared to chop down the disgrace he had once acknowledged as his brother. He was going to kill him personally, the Noah had known that all along. But that didn't mean he was willing to go along with it. Like hell he would!

Jumping out of the way of the swing, the Musician began, once again, running for his and his child's life. It wasn't all that hard, not while you had the clown from hell chasing after you. Though running deliberately from a fight wasn't something he wished he had done. He would have very much liked to fight the Earl, and give him one hell of a performance before his life was ultimately extinguished, but that would have to wait for now. He couldn't fight at the present moment, not while he was still carrying the only hope for humanity in his arms.

Slipping and sliding across the water soaked ground, he struggled for control as he changed directions suddenly, hoping to shake his pursuer. A wild drive to escape flashed in his eyes as he rounded another corner, only to be greeted by a few of the Earl's personal creations. Well, not so personal. He had helped design and manufacture the soul consuming machinery. Though he dare not take pride in something so vile, so hideous of a creation that had only left him questioning what he had been thinking.

But it was just one of the many sins he regretted ever doing.

Gritting his teeth, the Musician pressed forward, shoulders hunching forward as he bent his upper body down slightly and rammed through the growing lines of akuma. He ignored the fact that his body was being ripped and torn as he ran past, his sole attention focused on shielding the infant from the harshness of reality. It didn't take him long though, his blood-soaked and crippled form immerging from the pack in moderate victory. Moderate victory that only lasted for but a brief moment.

His heart couldn't have sunk any lower at what greeted him at the end.

Filling the skies were thousands upon thousands of various akuma, all of them with their weapons pointed directly at him. And to make matters worse, the Earl had managed to catch up to him.

"Just because the akuma can't kill you, doesn't me they can't kill that child you've been so desperate to keep from me." Pointed out the Earl, a roll of chuckles following his declaration as he signaled for his forces to open fire.

The Musician fell to his knees, his body acting as a physical shield as he protected the infant from the unrelenting gunfire. Bullets the size of his fist embedded themselves all over his body, the whole thing damaging the cluttered alleyway. Immense pain racked his body as no part of him remained unscathed, the attack ending abruptly after smoke from the gunfire became too thick for anyone or anything to see.

The Millennium Earl looked to the smoke cloud in anticipation, hoping to see the Noah's utter devastation upon finding his own child a pile of dust in his arms. Twirling his large broadsword around like it was nothing, he waited in growing excitement for the smoke to thin out. Though once it did, he wasn't pleased with what he found: a missing Noah and infant. All he had to show for all of this was a huge bloodstain dyeing the cobblestone ground as it slowly continued diluting away.

Growing anger and frustration filled him as he watched the blood get washed away by the rain, rage displaying on his features as his gaze followed the murky red trail off to his right. He may have eluded him this time, but next time he wouldn't be so lucky. Especially when he was already at the end of his patience. By the end of tonight, his once most loyal Noah brother would be exterminated.

**DGMDGMDGM**

The sound of wailing could be heard underneath all the pouring rain and roaring thunder claps. The Musician struggled to calm the crying infant, the sound of gunfire having been the thing to awaken the once soundly sleeping child. Exhausted and finding himself unable to continue on despite the fact that he had a mere mile and a half left until he made it to his destination, he fell once more to his knees. Though most of the wounds had healed by now, some of the more graving injuries were taking a little more time to heal, a particular one being a gaping wound to his lower back.

Panting as muscle and bone regenerated, he gazed with heavy lidded eyes down at the still crying infant, trying his best to soothe him. While stroking the baby's cheeks slowly with his thumb, he suddenly noticed a black pentagram appear on the child's forehead. And then another. And another. Gradually the infant was starting to become covered in nothing but black pentagrams, each one leaving a crack in the fallen Noah's heart.

Dread filled him as the sting of tears weighed heavily on his eyes. So that's why the child was crying so hard. Pulling back some of the soaked fabric bound around the infant, he couldn't stop the tears from slipping past his eyelids as he took note of the sliver of a cut on the child's arm. Though it was nothing but a graze, it was just enough to cause the akuma blood virus to spread. How could he miss such a thing? Why had he not taken note of it earlier? How could he fail such a simple task?

How could he fail at saving his own son?

"No…" he mumbled as he watched the child slowly become consumed by the black pentagrams, his body changing from pale pink to black, his crying unfazed. "NO!" the Musician howled as he pulled his child close, unable to watch his son crumble into dust. It was all just too much.

Tears mingling with the pouring rain, he choked back sobs as he waited for the inevitable to happen. Little did he know that that was far from happening. A greenish hue could be seen glowing past the thin fabric of the blanket, growing brighter and brighter until the two of them were overcome by the light. Delirious and not really paying attention to what was happening, he didn't notice the light until it began dying down. But by then the affects had already taken place.

Body racked by sobs, he waited for his child to fall to dust, for his cries to suddenly silence. But when they didn't he looked back up, wary as he drew the child away from him. Looking down, he was amazed to find the child back to his original color, still throwing a fit as water droplets continued falling into his eyes. His stubby little arms were flailing around, his right more than his left. The Musician's eyes went to fixate on the infant's crippled left arm. Blood red and scaly, he hesitantly grabbed hold of the limb and gave it a more thorough inspection, his eyes ending up on the jade green cross on the back of the child's hand.

His heart immediately skipped a beat after that, his inner Noah screaming out for him to destroy the ancient artifact embedded in his child's left hand. It took pure will to resist, the impulse growing stronger and stronger when the tiny hand suddenly wrapped around one of his fingers. At that, an electric shock went through his entire body, all his senses focused on the tiny hand wrapped around his finger, his thoughts switching over to how easy it would be to snap the infant's little wrist…

Forcing such vile thoughts to the back of his mind, he began thanking the mighty force known as God for once. He couldn't stop saying thank you as he gave a gentle kiss to the top of his son's fuzzy brown hair. Running his thumb along the infant's face, he went back to soothing him, caressing gently on his soft skin as he pulled up the thin blanket. A smile played on his face as the remainder of his tears fell with the rain when he suddenly felt the end of a gun barrel press against his forehead, the sound of a gun cocking drawing his attention upward.

"You really need to get better at hiding. I spotted you just a dozen feet away." Sneered the man hovering over him, his voice filled with snide as he took a long drag of his cigarette. The Musician glared up at him, batting away the gun barrel un-amused. "Isn't the weather wonderful?"

"No." he replied as the red-head placed his weapon back in the holster at his thigh and offered his hand to the Noah. Clasping his hand firmly, he was pulled up to his feet by the man with the flame red hair. Readjusting his hold around the infant, the Musician's eyes softened as he finally managed to soothe the infant to stifled cooing, blowing raspberries every now and again.

Leaning over, the man gave a distinct grimace as he flicked his cigarette away. "This little pink thing better be worth it Walker, I've got a lot on the line just by being here."

"Life isn't without a few risks Cross. You taught me that."

"Don't go sticking your damn problems on me. I didn't make all those decisions for you, you did. Now look where it's gotten you, the mighty Musician." Commented Cross as he ran a hand through his fiery red hair, the rain causing it to slick back slightly.

"And I have no regrets in the change my life has taken, my friend. I take it all in stride." He murmured as the two of them began jogging off, Cross's hand resting cautiously on the holster at his thigh, ready to whip out the firearm at a second's notice.

"Whatever you say kid, as long as we defeat that fatso, I don't give a damn about your personal life."

"Nice to see someone never changes." thought the fallen Noah, his face blank as it hid his thoughts of uncertainty and doubt. He knew he wasn't going to succeed in defeating his so called 'brother', but one couldn't stop from trying. Even if his power wasn't as strong as it had once been, seeing as how most of it was…given to another, he still had to try.

Besides, it had been given to the one person who would surely need it for the future, if he was to succeed where he could not.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Mana Walker was sitting by the open fire next to his companion, a performing dog, situated underneath one of the open tents, when his life changed forever. Taking a sip of his tea, he stopped in mid-sip when the terrier suddenly jumped to his feet, giving a few yelps before he shot out into the rain. Getting to his feet, he strained his eyes out into the darkness of the pouring rain, wondering why the dog would suddenly just shoot out like that.

"Tramp, get back here!" he hollered, just about to step out into the rain himself when the terrier suddenly came bounding back, yelping in joy as two figures stepped out of the darkness and into the range of the light coming from the fire.

There stood his little brother, looking like something the cat dragged in. Deep brown locks of hair plastered to the sides of his face, vibrant blue eyes blood shot and tired, clothes hanging ragged and lifeless on his body, he stared at his older brother in desperation. Worry filled Mana as he grasped his brother by the shoulders, distress in his eyes as he looked over his brother.

"What are you doing here? I thought you said you wouldn't be back until Christmas, what with work keeping you busy and all. Is something…" he began until his gaze fell upon the bundle in his brother's arms for the first time. Seeing the bright silver eyes gazing up at him sleepily caused his words to stumble until they fell off track, his attention solely on the baby. "Wrong?"

"I would be lying if I said there wasn't. Mana, I need your help. But I can't answer all the questions you feel you need to ask. So please, just listen to me." Pleaded the younger Walker, appearing as desperate as he sounded. "Mind if we get out of the rain first though? It's kind of chilly out here."

"Oh, of course, come on. There's room for everyone around the fire." Replied Mana as he released his brother from his hold and ushered him in underneath the open tent. The other man, the one with flame red hair, chose to stand outside, ignoring the friendly gesture Mana offered him.

Flustered, Mana gestured for his little brother to take a seat as he grabbed a tin cup and poured him some of the fresh tea he had brewed. Unable to keep his hand from shaking, his excitement and fear that intense, he accidentally spilled some of the tea out of the cup and onto his shoes. But he didn't care, he was just glad his brother was back. Even if it was for reasons unknown.

Refilling his own, he handed the other cup to his brother while he took the child out of his arms. It was then that he noticed that not only were his clothes hanging lifeless on his body, but they were covered with various sized bullet entry wounds, some blood stained on the front of his vest. Just what kind of trouble did he get himself into this time?

"You're hurt…" he uttered cautiously, unsure of how his brother would react. But instead of blowing up at him, like he thought he would whenever his job or anything pertaining to it was brought up, he just gave a small smile as he took a polite sip of the tea.

"I'm fine, really. But listen to me Mana, because I don't have much time. I need to ask of you a big favor." Replied the younger Walker as he set aside his tin cup as he stared into his brother's eyes. The intensity in his stare suggested that what he had to say had to be taken seriously. This was no joking matter.

Something was definitely wrong.

"You know I'll help in any way I can." He said as he readjusted his hold around the infant, trying his best to make him as comfortable as possible.

"I need you to take care of my son for me." Mana's eyebrows furrowed slightly, his face becoming downcast as he stared down at the now sleeping infant, taking note on how his face looked so peaceful. He looked like a sleeping angel. If only he could appear so at peace during something like this. "I don't think that's a very good idea—"

"Mana…" pleaded his little brother, the intensity in his blue eyes switching over to desperation. He really wanted this to work out for his child for some reason. "But I'll give it a try."

Tears of joy could be seen wielding up in his eyes, relief washing over him as he hugged his brother. Once again he felt thankful towards the mighty force of God, thanking him silently as he pulled away from Mana. His gaze fell to the sleeping infant in between them, his eyes softening as he stroked the top of his brown fuzzy hair.

"Now you be a good boy for your uncle. He's going to take care of you for me while I'm gone." He whispered as he reluctantly got to his feet. "Thank you Mana, thank you so much. This is for the best. My job…has taken a new turn, and I'm trying my best to fix it. It's just, with everything that's happend, I can't handle taking care of him right now."

"What happened to his mother?" Mana asked innocently, though he saw his brother instantly stiffen, his head bowing in an attempt to hide the fact that tears of pain were coming to his eyes. And all the shame that came flowing forth. It only made Mana wish he had never asked. Gauging his brother's reaction, he didn't need an answer. He already knew what it was.

"Anyways, I've got a lot of things to make right again. And I don't know how long it's going to take me. But I promise you, I'll come back as a man worthy of being both a brother and a father. Until then, I must go." He said as he slowly backed away from the fire, his footsteps forced as he made his way back out into the rain. He then took a moment to stare at his brother, savoring his image just one last time.

Sighing, he turned his back to the pair, his body stiff as he whispered, " Please forgive me Mana, for all the pain I've caused you."

Mana got to his feet after that, his eyes filled with sorrow as he watched his brother and his companion run off into the night. He hoped his brother had been telling him the truth. It was so hard to pick out what was truth and what were lies from his words nowadays.

"I've never blamed you…Allen."

**DGMDGMDGM**

The Musician and Exorcist stood in silence as they watched the other end of the crossroad they stood on, both growing more and more impatient. The rain continued to pour down, much to the fallen Noah's annoyance. This didn't seem to bother Cross as he stood there in solemnity, his innocence firearm held casually in one hand. Out of the two of them, he had been surprisingly quiet the whole way there. Something that was very uncharacteristic of the young man.

"You're awfully quiet Cross. Don't tell me you're getting scared."

"Me, scared? You must be confusing me with yourself because I don't get scared." Barked Cross as he glared over at the Noah beside him. The Musician smiled inspite of himself, a dubious look on his face that only caused Cross to increase the intensity of his glare.

"Alright, you caught me. I'm scared. But only because I know I should be." He said softly, finally admitting the fact that he was deathly afraid. It didn't mean he was going to give into that fear though. He's gone too far to be turning back now.

"You should listen to what he says Exorcist," said a voice that cause the pair to look up. "You would be foolish if you weren't afraid right now."

The Millennium Earl stood with his black broadsword in hand, flanked by a few dozen akuma. He gave them his trademark smile, the grin ever present on his face. Cross simply cocked an eyebrow, his hand tightening around his weapon as he brought up to his face. He was ready to fight, the Musician knew this. He had that cocky smile of his on his face to prove it.

But was he ready?

It was far too late to be asking himself that. Instead, he thought of his brother and his son, his resolve strengthening because of it. Outstretching his hand out in front of him as he began humming under his breath, a mighty broadsword flashed into his hand. It matched the Earl's in every way, from having the same size all the way down to its weight. But there was one thing that separated it from the Earl's own weapon.

The blade was white instead of black, the cross black instead of white.

"I, Allen Walker, the gifted Musician, shall be making my final performance."

_Author's Note: I would like to thank __**Allen the Musician**__ for allowing me to go with the idea of using the 14__th__ as Allen's father and for becoming the beta of this story and __**Gray Note**__ for allowing me to use his idea of having the 14__th__ with the name "Allen Walker". If you haven't checked out any of their works, then I suggest you do so. _

_This has nothing to do with what my other story line, or with Trust in You. It's something I've wanted to do for about a month now and despite the fact that I have a lot on my plate at the moment , I chose to go with my musings and start this story. Keep in mind though that I WILL finish all of my works that I've started, it'll just take me longer to do._

_I will never, and I repeat, __**NEVER**__ abandon a story. I promise you all that. I'll see to all my fics to the very end._

_Please Review._


	2. You're my world

Act.1: Circus Life

Chapter 1

'_I'm so afraid to love you, but more afraid to lose_

_Clinging to the past that doesn't let me choose_

_Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night_

_You gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light'_

_-Sara McLachlan: I Will Remember You_

It's been about 5 years since Mana Walker had last seen his younger brother. 5 years since he had taken in his brother's son and cared for him as his own without question. Those years had been rough on this aspiring Clown, his duties constantly having to be juggled between his performing career and raising a child. Though he was never alone when it came to taking care of child.

Members of his family, the carnival people that is, gladly stepped in and assisted the lonesome Mana whenever things got tough. Like, taking turns watching him while he went out to perform his acts, feeding him, changing him, and just plain old playing with him. It certainly made the two of them happy, the initial stress of the situation he was left in diminishing as time went on and people began helping out.

It was sort of like that saying 'it takes a village to raise a child', because they all certainly had a part when it came to raising the boy. They were like a family. One big happy family.

"Allen," called Mana as he exited the central tent he had just been in. A hint of worry was in his features as he searched for the little ball of energy, having always been used to being greeted by him at the end of a performance. "Where are you son?"

When he didn't get a reply he thought to go to his tent, that being the first place he figured the child would be at. But he found it to be unoccupied, everything left as it should've been, in a mess. Now he was starting to get worried, this being the one place he had expected the child to be instead of where he usually was waiting for him. And with that worry came it's charming companion known as fear. Quite a pair those two were together.

Calling out the child's name again as he doubled back to the central tent, he was hit by the same tinge of melancholy pinching at his heart whenever the name rolled off his tongue. Why he had chosen to name the child after his own father was something he couldn't fathom, seeing as how thoughts of his brother only served to dishearten him. In the 5 years of his absence, he had expected at least a letter every now and again inquiring about his own son and their happenings.

But he had never received a single letter from his brother. Not once.

He guess it was rather pointless to be having wishful thinking now, seeing as how it was pretty clear his brother wasn't coming back anytime soon. Though one couldn't stop from hoping. A little bit of hope goes a long way after all.

Shaking away the disheartening thoughts of his little brother, Mana continued his search, his once subdued pace now a barely restrained jog, his worry growing. Where in the world was this boy? The whole grounds weren't even that big. There was only so many places a person, let alone a child, could go. Finding him shouldn't be this hard, he thought, as he made his way past some of the caged animals.

He decided to ask the first person he saw about the whereabouts of the little boy. And that ended up being a girl in her late teens, currently the animal tamer trainee. Though from the look of things, it seemed as though she was doing better than her instructor was. Maneuvering around the tigers they were trying to break, Mana waited as they continued their work, getting more and more impatient the longer they took.

"Excuse me…" coughed Mana, trying to get the young woman's attention. But it went unnoticed under the sudden roar of the defiant tiger she was working on. So he tried again, this time louder. "Excuse me…"

Again, no luck. It looked as though he was just going to have to ask someone else. She appeared to be too preoccupied to even notice his presence. Maybe attempting to ask someone fighting to control a wild animal hadn't been one of his better ideas. But he wasn't one to give up.

"Excuse me!" he hollered, his voice booming over the roars of the tigers. This finally caught her fleeting attention, a look of surprise on her face as she turned towards the clown. If it weren't for the face paint that still adorned his face, she would have been able to see that he was flushing in embarrassment. He had never raised his voice before, not even when he was angry.

"Excuse me but have you seen little Allen? I can't seem to find him anywhere."

The young blonde took on a thoughtful expression, as if contemplating whether she had seen the little tike or not. The time in which it was taking her to answer the simple yes or no question was starting to annoy the gentle clown, unable to stop his foot from tapping in escalating annoyance. He normally wasn't this impatient but when it came to the boy, patience had no meaning.

Then a smile came upon her face as she stared past Mana, unable to stop herself from lightly laughing. Confused, he looked over his shoulder in hopes of discovering what was so funny, but all he found was empty space. Looking back at the young blonde, who had seized her stifled laughing, he looked at her expectedly, desiring an answer. But all he got out of her was another round of laughs, her features bursting with amusement as she fought to control her laughing fit.

"What's so—" began an exasperated Mana until he felt a sudden weight ensnare him from behind, arms wrapping around his neck loosely as a head began nuzzling the side of his face. Fuzzy hair tickling his face, he couldn't stop from laughing as he lost his footing and fell back onto his butt. "I got you, I got you!" chanted the little boy as he joined the clown in his laughing fit.

Scrambling around to the clown's front as Mana fell back onto his back, the two of them laughed together in joyous glee, unable to quit their rolling laughter. Mana then began tossing the 5 year old boy that had grown to be a major part of his world in the air, earning another round of giggles. He did this a couple of times until he tired of the exertion, instead, choosing to hold the boy close.

"Does that answer your question Mana?" asked the young animal tamer as she bent down to the Clown's side. The clown and boy paused in their laughter, the two of them wide eyed as they both looked at the female animal tamer until their gazes switched to each other. Their eyes suddenly narrowed, a look of mischievous intent coming across their faces.

She didn't like the looks of this.

As she began inching away ever so slowly, as not to draw too much attention to herself, she tried fleeing the scene but her attempts ended when the 5 year old finally pounced on her, knocking her back. Going for her ticklish spots, something he had learned through trial and error, Allen finally brought back her laughter as he continued tickling her. Her weak spot, the area where her neck and shoulder met.

Meanwhile, Mana got up and began egging Allen on. "That's right, get her Allen!" he encouraged with enthusiasm, unable to stop the smile that was coming upon his face as he watched. Rolling around in the patches of grass, the blonde haired animal tamer had to relinquish the whip in her hand as she continued her provoked laughter, her sides heaving as she fought for breath.

"Alright-haha-you win!" panted the young woman as she surrendered to the little boy. Finally seizing in his actions, Allen got off her in triumph, a proud smile on his face as he turned to Mana. "See that Mana?" he asked, as he fell into Mana's lap. As if the Clown hadn't been paying attention. "I got Klaud to laugh!"

"I saw." He said tenderly as Allen shifted around on his lap, turning away from the man as he faced Klaud. He was currently sticking his tongue out at her innocently. Klaud also stuck her tongue out at him, a smile making the act somewhat difficult. Though neither of them meant any ill of the act.

It was all just for fun.

Mana scooped Allen into his arms as he got to his feet, Klaud doing the same as she took back her well used whip. Her instructor had managed to force the two tigers back into their cages during their little moment, annoyed that he had had to do it by himself. Dealing with two ferocious tigers was no easy matter. "Klaud! Hurry it up, we've got performances to perfect."

"In a minute!" she replied over her shoulder as she turned back to the two in disappointment. "I have to go, you know how Royal gets when I'm not there to bail him out. Save me a spot at the Pit, will yah?"

The two nodded as the young animal tamer dashed away, smiles on their faces as they watched her go. It was only when they couldn't see her that they finally decided to head back to Mana's tent. Carrying the boy in his arms, he gave a tired sigh as he turned to gaze to him as he walked.

"Allen, I want you to know that you had me really worried back there when you didn't show up like you were suppose to." Reprimanded the Clown delicately, his voice gentle but stern. He wanted Allen to understand that it wasn't alright to go wandering on his own. The little boy looked away in shame, his joy deflating as he sagged in Mana's arms. "Please understand that I only want what's best for you."

"I know…" mumbled Allen as he looked to the ground, unable to meet his father's gaze. Mana could tell from the sincerity in his voice and the shame in his intelligent silver eyes that he understood.

"You do know that I love you, with all my heart son." Coaxed the Clown as he readjusted his hold around Allen, trying to turn his frown upside down. "You're my world little one, you know that?" He said this as he gave him a big, sloppy kiss.

"Ew, yuck! Gross!" moaned Allen as he began hastily wiping away all the lingering spit that clung to his cheek. The grossed out look Allen had on his face made Mana laugh, knowing full and well that his child didn't like to be kissed. "What's wrong with my kiss?"

"Kisses are yucky!" The comment only made the Clown laugh harder. He could be so cute and innocent sometimes.

"You may say that now, but just wait till you get to be about my age. Then you might change your mind." Chuckled Mana as they finally made it to his tent, setting the boy down as he pulled back the flap. But before he entered, Allen looked up at his father with a look of annoyance in his features, his bottom lip sticking out in a pouting manner.

"I'll never change my mind! Girls are gross and kisses are even grosser." Declared Allen, raising his fist up in confirmation. He had such resolve and determination in his bright silver eyes, that Mana almost believed him. But a child's declaration was so fleeting. One could hardly believe it would remain substantial.

That's not to say that he wasn't going to go along with him.

"Hehe, whatever you say son. Whatever you say…"

Mana began changing out of his clown garb in favor of something more practical, Allen following his lead as he changed out of his tattered clothes. Wiping away the face paint, he then proceeded to remove his bulky costume, switching into that of something more proper. Pulling on a long sleeve cotton shirt, he buttoned up his grey vest as he went for his top hat. Planting it atop his head, he gave a blissful sigh as he turned back to the oddly silent Allen.

He found the boy struggling with his shirt, his head trying to poke through the top of his crisp white shirt. Mana gave a light chuckle as he got to his feet, taking a few strides over to where Allen struggled. But the effort was unneeded as Allen finally forced his head through, his face flustered and his hair in total disarray. More so than usual that is.

His appearance caused Mana's chest to tighten, his heart skipping a beat as he stumbled back. With brown hair tousled around, it appeared to have spiked up in the back, the appearance not wholly unfamiliar. If it weren't for the silver eyes, he looked exactly like his father, Mana's little brother.

Unable to stop the gasp from escaping his lips, he stumbled back further as another wave of fresh sorrow hit him. Those eyes, he couldn't escape the intensity. They were just as proud as his father's had been. It only served to stir up buried memories of the past, when he and his brother had both been children.

"Mana?" uttered a distressed Allen as he looked at his father with worry filled eyes. The far off look in his father's eyes was starting to scare him. Walking up to him, he began lightly tugging on the sleeve of his shirt, trying to grab his attention. "Mana?"

Mana continued vacantly staring out at nothing, his mind indulged with a memory of the past. All that he could comprehend was that his name being called, the voice not of the child that stood beside him, but that of his little brother when he had been 5 years old. Though the two sounded wholly similar.

"Mana!" cried Allen as his grip over the fabric slipped, the little boy stumbling and tripping under his own feet. Falling back, his left arm struck the corner of Mana's make-up table, time somehow managing to come to a halt. A seemingly electric shock ran up his body from the simple strike, his body stiffening as a piercing cry escaped his lips, filling the air.

The shrill cry of fear and pain snapped Mana out of his reverie, his dazed expression replaced with that of confusion as panic rose. Looking to floor, he found Allen on the floor, clutching his left arm to his body as he cried and sobbed. Instinct took over as he dropped to the floor next to his son, scooping the boy into his arms as he attempted to soothe him.

Rubbing soothing circles on the child's back, he held little Allen close, allowing his tears to soak the front of his vest. "Shh…it's alright. Daddy's here…" crooned Mana as he listened to the muffled sounds of the child's sobs. Guilt racked Mana as he tightened the hold he had around Allen, shame filling him with each tremor he felt from the little boy. What had gotten into him to just blatantly space out like that?

"_I'll come back as a man worthy of being both a brother and a father."_

The words echoed within the confines of his head, his brother's voice crystal clear despite the fact he wasn't actually there. Pushing the voice to the back of his mind, he placed all of his attention on the shaking little boy in his arms. He felt a dampness to his inner arm, pulling back to see a fresh plume of blood not of his own dyeing his sleeve. Shifting his gaze over, he noticed that the source of the crimson liquid came from Allen's left arm, the limb trembling more so than his body was.

Another wave of panic washed over him as he stared at the accumulating mass of blood. Rationally he gently took hold of the trembling limb, using delicate fingers tear away the stained fabric. He was then greeted with something he wasn't too unfamiliar with: Allen's deformed left arm. A blood red limb that was plated in puffy sores that overlapped like scales, finger nails as dark as black charcoal. And to top it all off, a green stone could be seen embedded within the raw and sickly colored flesh, the shape akin to that of a cross.

Pushing passed all his panic over his child, he forced himself to remain calm as he began binding the bleeding limb with that of his torn sleeve. Being as gentle as he could, he took his time as he wrapped the soiled piece of fabric around his arm. When that was done, he gave a sigh of relief at the pass of this crisis, his features softening as Allen finally looked up at him.

"It hurts…" moaned Allen as Mana wiped away the stray tears that fell down his face. The remark slightly unsettled the clown. In his full 5 years of life, Allen had never once complained about his deformed arm. In fact, he had said he couldn't even feel it. To say that it hurts, probably only a strong reaction to pain, was something of an improvement. Maybe there was a chance of further improvement. "I know it hurts, but you've got to push past it. It won't hurt forever, I promise."

"Ok…" accepted the boy without question, burying into his father's shirt as he began snuggling against the man's warm chest. The sound of his consistent heartbeat was very calming to his distressed mind. "Is something makin' you sad Mana?"

"No, why?" answered Mana slowly, not wanting to reveal to his son that he had been thinking of his biological father earlier, which really had made him sad. But he wasn't going to tell him that.

One little white lie wouldn't hurt, would it?

"You looked sad earlier. It made me sad and…scared." He said this as he buried himself further into the man's chest, his decent hand clenching the fabric of his shirt.

"I was just thinking little one, that's all. I didn't mean to frighten you like that son."

"What were you thinkin' about Mana?"

Mana smiled, creating a perfect mask that covered up the fact that turmoil was raging within his head. He had to come up with an excuse before he began inquiring more about what had happened earlier before he had injured his lame arm. "I was just thinking about how sad I would be if I were to lose you," lied Mana, though it really wasn't all that far from the truth. He would be devastated if he loss little Allen, just as he had been when he came to the realization that his brother wasn't coming back. The grief would just eat away at him until it eventually consumed him.

"I would be sad if I loss you too, Mana." conquered Allen as he nuzzled his face into the cottony shirt. Mana gave a light chuckle at his agreement. Despite the gushing sincerity in his voice, the fact that he was still calling him 'Mana' made his comment that the more amusing. Why he called him by his name instead of 'father' or 'daddy', Mana hadn't had the faintest clue.

"You're my world little one, you know that?"

"I do."

_Author's Note: Thank you all who reviewed, I'm very glad you find this story filled with aspiring potential. And a special thanks to my beta, __**Allen the Musician**__. I hoped you enjoyed this chapter just as much and please fill free to leave a review. Until we meet again, Howlingwolf94._


	3. Pain of the Past

Ch. 2

_'When you can't find your way_

_I'll find my way to you_

_When troubles come around_

_I will come to you'_

_-Reba McEntire: I'll Be_

As night descended from the heavens and blanketed the sky in its black velvet sheet, Mana and little Allen began making their way over to the mighty and ominous Pit. What it was exactly was something of a mystery to those that didn't work for or with the carnival. All that was known about the place was that every carnie knew of its whereabouts, a place visited by many performers at least once during their entire career. Mana and Allen had gone to the Pit every single night for the past consecutive 5 years.

Humming a tune under his breath, Allen held his father's hand tightly as he pulled him along, eager to make it to the Pit. "Calm down, calm down. The Pit isn't going anywhere." Commented Mana as he lightly laughed at the anxious expression that greeted his statement.

"We'll miss the best stories if we don't hurry!" argued the child as he resumed his pulling of the man. Obviously Mana didn't understand the severity of missing out on the best stories. "Alright, hold your horses, I'm coming."

Purposively the clown deliberately began walking slower, leaving Allen frustrated as he tried pulling his father along. "Why did grownups have to be so big and heavy?" thought Allen as he continued struggling with his attempts at getting Mana to move faster. The irritation and frustration was evident on his face, his eyebrows knitted forward and his mouth thin lipped. He looked pretty serious for a 5 year old.

Feeling that he had tortured the kid enough, Mana suddenly put on a burst of speed, scooping up Allen in his arms as he shot forward. Placing him atop his shoulders, a smile broke across his face as he heard the telltale signs of his son's joy, a cry of glee filling the air as he ran faster. The words of 'faster' decreed that he pick up the pace, despite the fact that he was already going rather fast. But if it was what he wanted, then so be it.

He just wanted the child to forget all about the little moment from earlier.

Huffing from this tiresome exertion, Mana forced himself to go faster, struggling to ignore the thought of _"I'm getting too old for this…"_.

What was he thinking? He was only in his early thirties, he should still be in the prime of his life, or at least preparing to get off it. Something like this didn't happen often, did it? He exercised every day, and just being a Clown was an exercise. Not to mention raising Allen, that in itself was an exercise. So why was he feeling as if he was getting old? Maybe it had to do with the weather. It was getting a little chilly now that he thought about it.

A gust of cold air threatened to carry away his top hat if it wasn't for Allen grabbing it in time. Growing excited with a newfound idea, the little boy suddenly found it a good idea to place the large hat atop his own head. But seeing as how he was still small, even for his own age, the hat wouldn't sit properly on his head and instead, chose to sink down past his eyes. This only served to excite him more as he began laughing in joy, finding this to be a fun game. It didn't bother him at all that the hat wouldn't actually sit on his head right.

"Having fun up there little one?" asked Mana, amused that his child was having the time of his life upon his shoulders. "You betcha!" replied Allen as he rested his chin upon Mana's head.

He smiled at the enthusiastic comment, glad that Allen was enjoying himself while atop his shoulders. Fearing that another sudden blast of wind would carry his hat away, maybe even taking Allen with it, Mana slowed down to a more leisurely pace. He took in a necessary large gulp of air, exhaling soon after in satisfaction upon meeting his lungs' required needs. But the sudden change in pace didn't seem to satisfy the 5 year old sitting upon his shoulders.

"Faster, faster!" commanded the child, swinging his legs around as if his father was a horse. He gave a nervous laugh at the child's antics, feeling slightly guilty that he harbored no intention of following the request. He was already tired as it was. "Why don't we slow it down just a bit, Daddy's getting tired." This didn't settle well with the little boy.

"No, I want to go faster!" pouted Allen, lightly pounding his little, balled fists atop of his father's head in protest. This only caused Mana to give an agitated sigh, not thoroughly pleased over his child's actions. "Allen, what did I tell you about behaving when you're on my shoulders?" reminded Mana sternly as he came to a sudden stop. Allen had also halted his actions.

"No roughhousing…" he answered glumly as he sagged from atop his shoulders, his arms dropping to his sides as he rested his chin back on his father's head. The large top hat sank back down over his face, hiding his saddened and ashamed eyes from all view. The circus clown felt guilty that he had upset his child, but he had to understand that he wanted Allen to grow up as a gentleman. He didn't want him to live here in the circus forever. He needed more opportunities if he were to flourish successfully out in the cruel and reality defining world we call life.

He held high hopes for his son's future.

"Thank you Allen," thanked Mana as he suddenly caught sight of the glow of a fire in the distance. "If you want, you can wear my hat for the whole night as long as you don't get it dirty." This seemed to pull the child out of his gloom for he suddenly perked up, a smile coming upon his face. _"I guess that did the trick."_ Thought Mana as he continued walking towards the growing glow of firelight.

Upon lifting the hat somewhat out of his eyes and actually getting it to stay, Allen began squirming with anticipated excitement. Maybe they had made it just in time to catch some of the best stories! "Come on Mana, we might just make it!" cried the boy as he began moving around atop his father's shoulders, his restlessness showing that he wished to get down. Obliging to his desire, the circus clown watched as the little boy shot off like a bullet towards the distant glow, soon to be swallowed up by the darkness of night.

A sigh escaped Mana's lips as he continued moving forward in the casual pace he had originally been going. Typical, Allen deeming it worthy of running off while it was still fairly dark and when Mana couldn't see him. At least he appeared to have pushed past the little bout of trauma he had experienced just hours ago. That had to count for something, right?

Still walking forward, the Clown suddenly came to an unknown stop, the hair at the back of his neck raising. He felt as though he was being watched by something, anything, which hid within the sumptuous fabrics of darkness. Looking over his shoulder, he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was keeping an eye on him. And he had half the mind to call out, but knowing full and well that that would prove to do no good, he didn't. For all he knew, it was nothing but his imagination playing tricks on him.

He'd shrug it off, not realizing the truth that his assumption held as he went back to following his child towards the glow.

**DGMDGMDGM**

It was indeed fact that Mana Walker, carnival clown, was being watched. By who though, was someone he had forgotten in the 5 years he had been raising Allen. Someone he hadn't and probably would never grasp the relative significance of his role back those several years ago when he chose to stand out in the rain instead of taking shelter next to the fire.

Yes, Mana Walker was being watched by Cross Marian himself.

Said man was sticking to the shadows, detesting the fact that he couldn't even smoke a damn cigarette because it would draw unwanted attention to himself. And he was only staying for just a moment. "Dammit Walker, making me promise to watch over them like that!" he muttered angrily as he brushed his fiery red hair back.

In the past 5 years, his appearance had taken a dramatic change. For instance, his hair was excessively longer than it was before, but just as fierce. Instead of the black and silver coat he had had previous, he now donned a coat of black and gold, a wide-brimmed hat perched atop his head. Age could be seen written in his features, predominantly in his face. A rough goatee of facial hair covered his chin, his single showing red eye filled with unknown sense of tiredness. Experience had aged him quite dearly.

But wounds of the past still bothered him.

A gloved hand went up to the right side of the Exorcist General's face, parting away the hair that covered said side. Normally concealed behind his long locks laid half a mask, placed over his right eye. Out of all the wounds he had suffered in that one unfavorable and undermined battle 5 years ago, the one to his eye had been the worst. But it hardly rivaled the pain that had been directed to his heart.

_Flashback_

_The pain had been insurmountable as the red-haired Exorcist laid in his own puddle of blood. A wave of pain ran up with each move he made, his vision blurred from all the blood that was pouring from a wound directed to his right eye. And despite it all, he was still carrying the cocky grin on his face. That is, until a certain voice reminded him of the predicament he was in. _

"_Hehe, silly Exorcist. Did you really believe you could defeat me?" chuckled the Earl as he gave the severely injured Cross a precarious kick to his bruised side. It took all of Cross's self will to not howl out in pain. "Damn fatso," he muttered darkly as he shakily grasped his firearm into his hand, raising it up while pointing the barrel at the Earl. His innocence was severely damaged, on the verge of shattering if it were to take another direct hit. "Burn in hell!"_

_A round of gunshots could be heard as the Exorcist fired at the 1st disciple. But all shots never had much of a chance; Cross's hand could hardly remain steady, causing his aim to deter away from the Earl. Hands becoming slippery from all the senseless rain and blood that stained his hand, Cross couldn't keep his grip steady and soon enough, his firearm fell out of his hand. _

_An aggravated sigh escaped his lips as his arm fell back to the muddy ground, cringing at the sound of his weapon breaking apart filling his ears. Now that his weapon was crippled, it was useless. He'd just have to go get some repairs made on the firearm by some innocence forger. That is, if he ever got out of this poorly executed plan alive._

"_Goodbye Exorcist. Tell that God of yours that the Millennium Earl sends his greetings." With having said that, the Earl lifted his large broadsword above his head, ready to plunge it down into the pesky Exorcist's chest. Then, once he was through with him, he could properly dispose of the Musician once and for all. _

_Cross Marian glared up in defiance, a snarl on his face as he awaited for his fate to be sealed. He wasn't going to give the damn Earl the satisfaction that he was, for once, afraid. "Go ahead, do your worse!" egged Cross as he spread his arms out from his sides, beckoning the 1st apostle to take his life. He'd rather die than go about living with the thought that he had been so close in defeating the Earl._

_But as the sword came plunging down, another sword came shooting out of nowhere, blocking the black blade from sinking into the Exorcist's chest. Cross shifted his glare over to the right, anger flaring up at the sight that beheld him. Damn Walker kid! The Musician struggled with the weight of the downward swing, sparks flying from their opposing forces. Eventually the fallen Noah managed to push his 'brother' back, only earning a cleaved shoulder as a daunting reward. _

_His face contorted in pain as he fell to one knee, the pain his shoulder was causing becoming too much as he blocked another powerful strike. He didn't have enough strength though, to support the block, and soon enough, the blade broke. Sure, his inverted weapon had taken some heat, but he had never suspected that the weapon would break clean in-half. "I guess my power is finally failing me…" thought the Pianist as felt a searing pain flare up in his midsection._

_Lurching forward, his eyes bugged as blood rose to his throat, a gargling noise issuing from his mouth as he released the hold of his broken white broadsword. And, to make matters worse, the sword was slowly creeping up from midsection, all the way up to his chest. Howling up in all misery and pain, Allen was at the end of his wits as his mind wobbled back and forth on the thin line of sanity. The Millennium Earl took pleasure in his misery, his overzealous grin furthering as his 'brother's' blood splattered upon his face. _

_Laughing giddily, the Earl finally yanked his black broadsword out of the fallen Noah's chest, chuckling to himself as he watched his Musician fall back in a bloody heap. "Hehehehe, that should've taught you a thorough lesson. But in case you need reminding…" trailed the Earl as he swiftly plunged his staid sword back into the dying Noah's chest. He took immense satisfaction at the contorted expression he gained from the sudden plunge. _

_Giving a hearty chuckle, he once again pulled out his sword, finally satisfied that the 14th Noah wasn't going to recover from this. His blank gaze was proof enough. Flourishing his large sword around, it suddenly transformed into the pumpkin top umbrella, the umbrella opening out as he slowly ascended to the skies. He gave a satisfied sigh. His job was done._

_Meanwhile, Allen, the unexpected Noah member, laid there sprawled across the muddy ground. His chest could be seen barely rising, a plume of blood expanding outwards and dying the front of his tattered shirt. He remained there, hardly blinking as the rain continued to fall, spreading out all the blood that had been shed. His eyes soon became glassy, thoughts of his dear brother and darling son entering his mind as the tears finally broke free from his eyes. _

_What kind of man was he? A despicable brother and a lousy father._

_Movement to his right caught his attention, causing his head to turn to see that Cross was struggling to make his way over to him. And by the look of his face, he wasn't all too happy. His typical disgruntlement, especially during a time like this, left the Pianist slightly amused. Even in pain, the Exorcist still found a means to be just as much of an ass as he usually was. At least some things would never change._

"_You damn fool!" growled Cross as he gave the fallen Noah a weak shove, unable to call forth enough energy to make it meaningful. But if he was at his full strength, and the situation was the same, nothing would've stopped him from shoving him harder. "You could've finished him if you'd just let him kill me. Now we can't do jack thanks to you!" seethed Cross, a hand left pressed against the right side of his face as a spasm of pain hit him. This was surely going to hurt tomorrow morning._

_Allen's expression, though pained it was, softened, a small smile coming upon his face as he inwardly chuckled to himself. Typical Cross. "What can I say, I'm a softy." He mumbled softly, spasms of coughs hitting him soon after. Gasping and hacking for a clean airway, more blood issued from his mouth, sliding down his chin as the wounds to his chest bled heavier. _

_He was dying…and nothing either of them could do would be able to stop it. _

_Cross seemed to realize this without actually having to be told. "Hehe, it looks like this is it for me…my friend." Despite himself though, Cross could not prevent himself from feeling the pain his words brought him. "Quit your moaning kid, you'll be fine," was Cross' rebuttal as he tried pulling his Noah friend to his feet. But Allen wouldn't budge. Nor could he find the strength to continue his actions upon receiving the pleading look coming from his blue eyes. So he tried taking another approach._

"_What about your brother and the pink thing? You'd said you promised to come back to them?" asked a surprisingly earnest Cross, his only good eye filling with deep shades of sorrow. Not even the pouring rain could lighten his mood now. But Allen didn't react the way he thought he would, his vast amount of despair not changing at his words. All there was, was a smile giving hint to some hidden knowledge that only he knew. And that made the Exorcist wary._

"_Ah Cross…my dear friend, you must promise me that you'll look after both my brother and my son as much as you can spare. If you do, then I promise that I'll return…one day." Replied the Pianist cryptically, his strength unwillingly ebbing away as he waited for his friend to agree. Even his vision was beginning to fail him. But he couldn't go just yet. He still had one last thing to do. _

"_You know–" began Cross slowly until he was suddenly cut off by his friend placing a mysterious object into his hand. Curious over the golden orb now in his hand, Cross brought the foreign object up to his face. "What the hell is this?"_

"_Something I couldn't finish. It's a golem I began making a little while ago," Another bone chilling cough broke his line of speech. Everything was starting to get steadily dimmer and colder. His time was almost up. "And…never got a chance to finish it. I know you're a man of science, so I hope you'll finish it for me."_

"_And why the hell would I do that?" growled Cross, knowing full and well that his friend's time was running out. _

"_Because you ignorant twit, I've placed a very important piece of information that you'll surely need for the future. But in order to unlock it, you must complete the golem." Explained Allen tiredly, his voice coming out in gasps. "Now, do you promise?"_

_When he was sure Cross wouldn't return the golden golem and he gave a subtle nod of acceptance, the Pianist sank back down, flinching at the eruption of pain. He couldn't see anymore; everything had turned dark. A sigh escaped Cross's lips as he pocketed the strange, gold thing and the faintest trace of a smile crossed his face. Too bad his friend wasn't able to see it. "You're a piece of shit, you know that?" grumbled the Exorcist lightly, scoffing as he turned away. But when he didn't get a reply, he soon became anxious. _

"_Kid?" Looking down, he noticed with dissatisfaction that his chest suddenly sank, never to rise again as his eyes glazed over. Cross was at a lost of words, distress filling him as he began shaking him. He felt so disgusted with himself at his display of denial._

"_Kid?" He tried again, invoking no response out of his friend. So he tried once more "Allen?"_

_Upon actually calling him by his first name did it really sink in. His friend was gone, his spirit long gone. He wasn't sure if his vow would hold true, but for the moment, he would choose to believe him. That maybe someday, if he followed his words, his friend would return. One way or another._

_Suddenly, an odd sensation filled his only functioning eye, his eye stinging for unknown reasons. What was this feeling? Whatever it was, it was surely nothing he had ever experienced before. And _something_ he would never take pride in or ever speak of again. _

_For the first and only time in his life, Cross allowed himself to cry._

_End of Flashback_

Allowing the bitter memory to roll off his shoulders, Cross Marian gave a low growl as he doubled back to the clown's tent. Entering it silently, he gave the surroundings a quick scan before he actually stepped into the light of the gas lamps. "Grr…I hope you know what you're doing kid," Grumbled the Exorcist General as he dug a hand into one of his coat pockets.

Once finding what he had been looking for, he pulled out a folded piece of paper and placed it in a spot he knew Mana would easily find it.

"Because this orchestra has begun," mumbled Cross as he exited the tent, ready to leave this crappy fair ground. "And it is unclear as to who the maestro to this ballad is."

_Author's Note: Thank you very much for those who had reviewed, it made my day when you did ^^. And once again, I thank my beta-reader __**Allen the Musician**__, for their most appreciated help. Don't worry, I'll be glad to help you in any way I can._

_Hope this was fairly decent in forwarding this story. Thank you TeenageNeko, Allen the Musician, Kandei, Gray Note, Jessi Pon0x0, Hitokiri Shinzui, Peculiar Top Hat, and MoonlitMelody for all being the one's to review this story and support. Knowing that you all find this to be interesting just fills me with pride and joy. I hope I don't disappoint any of you in any way in the chapters to come. _


	4. Top Hat

Ch. 3

'_You who are on the road_

_Must have a code that you can live by_

_And so become yourself_

_Because the past is just goodbye'_

_-Crosby Stills Nash Young: Teach your Children_

By the time Mana had made it to the Pit, after having shrugged off the thought of someone watching him, he found Allen indulged with listening to yet another masterful story weaved together by Christian, the ring leader. When he wasn't in the spot light, he was here, sharing one of his grand stories to whoever would listen. And usually, it was Allen who would sit there before him in open eagerness, hanging on his every word.

Allen had instantly become riveted upon hearing the old and wise ring leader telling yet another one of his infamous adventures as a ring leader. Sure, most of it was exaggerated, but only for the amusement of his fondest listener. Whenever Mana and Allen would come to the Pit, a place of social gathering, and Christian was there, the child would instantly zoom off towards the aging man, as if his stories were a magnetic force drawing him near.

The two got along really well, their relationship and bond almost as strong as that of the one he and Mana shared. But just almost.

An amused smile came upon the performing Clown's face as he took a seat beside the vastly experienced Christian, his gazed focused solely on his child. Allen was sitting before him, the over-sized top hat still hiding his inquisitive silver eyes until he pushed the hat back up. But his attempts were ultimately futile, seeing as how the large hat would continue to slide back down to its previous position. Though it hardly went registered. The child was too busy listening to yet another one of his friend's stories.

"I was at the end of my wits, I was, trying to figure out what to do next," narrated the experienced ring leader, pausing for dramatic effect. The light cast upon his bearded face from the fire made the utter seriousness of his tale seem that much more important. It certainly solicited it's affects upon little Allen. "What you'd do?" asked the child, his words laced with earnest. He wanted to know what happened next.

"Well, I said to myself 'Chris, there's nothing else you can do. You have no other choice'—" he explained, only to have Allen interrupting him in his growing anticipation. The suspense was starting to be too much for this anxious and overenthusiastic little boy. "Then what happened Chris'an?"

The old man smiled before answering, "Now, now, you won't know what happened next if you keep interrupting me like that, son." His words were full of endearment, his features lighting up upon noticing the boy suddenly close his mouth tight, ceasing his fidgeting. It coaxed out a joyous chuckle, his face crinkling as he went back to his story-telling. "Now then, where was I…oh yeah! I said to myself 'Chris, there's nothing else you can do. You have no other choice…you must put that leotard and tutu on yourself!'"

This earned a round of giggles from the boy engrossed by the story, trying his hardest not to laugh out loud. But the next part just became too much. "It was rightfully the most humiliating experience throughout my entire career. I had to not only shave my legs, but also my underarms, not to mention any facial hair I had been so pleased to receive. But that wasn't the worst part, oh no. The worst part was having to put all that god awful make-up on, and not the clown kind either. They wouldn't stop calling me 'Christina' for weeks." Said Christian, shuddering at the remembrance as Allen rolled with laughter, unable to control himself.

"Yeah, you think it's funny now, just wait until you have to do it…" trailed the wise old ring leader, causing the boy to suddenly cease in his laughter and look up at his friend in horror. "You kidd'n, right?"

"I wouldn't lie to you now would I son? Just go ask your father over there." Replied Christian as he pointed over to his left, giving Mana a subtle wink as Allen came scrambling over. The Clown had to suppress a laugh that was threatening to escape as his son clung to the front of his shirt, eyes expectant as he said, "That's not true…is it Mana?" As he said this, the top hat fell back down over his eyes, causing Mana to finally lose any self control he once had. He couldn't help but laugh.

Eyes tearing up at the corners, Mana struggled for composure as he replied, "I'm afraid so Allen, you start tomorrow." It was fun playing along as Allen suddenly pushed away from him, a look of devastation on his face as he ran back to Christian, pleading with the older man to reconsider. Smiling at the scene, his attention suddenly turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Immerging out of the darkness was the young Klaud Nyne, an un-bemused expression playing on her features as she took a seat beside the Clown. She must have heard his comment.

"What?" he asked, not quite sure why she was never amused by any of their teasing. Maybe it had something to do with the sexist remark over make-up. But in his defense, he also wore make-up, just not the kind they were referring to.

"It's not very nice teasing him like that. You're just mortifying the little guy." Reprimanded the teen, sounding older than she actually was. But she was, ultimately, right. It wasn't very fair torturing him like this. It only meant that somehow, in some way, there was going to be some form of retaliation. And that was something he wasn't looking forward to.

While reassuring the boy that they had only been kidding, none of them were paying much attention to the dog that was stealthily inching his way forward, eyes dead set on the top hat. The dog's brown eyes twinkled with mischievous nature as he crawled forward, waiting for the right moment to strike. His desire for the hat was driven mostly because it was one of the many items his master had forbad him to chew on, and mostly because it was just tangling there on his other master's head. And natural instinct was decreeing that he snatch the hat.

Pouting over how he had been fooled, Allen sat there before their feet sulking, his little arms cross before his chest. Getting rather tired over having the hat continuously sliding down over his eyes, he took the large cylinder shaped hat off his head. But as he did so, the dog immediately ran in at the given opportunity. Jumping into the air and over Allen's head, the performing dog snatched the hat from the boy's grasp, landing easily on the opposite side with the hat in his mouth.

It was then that Mana knew that this was his form of punishment for teasing the child.

"My hat!" cried the Clown as he got to his feet, devastation written on his face as he watched his performing partner look up at him with those puppy-dog brown eyes, stub of a tail wagging furiously. Allen had also jumped to his feet upon noticing this change in events. A look of worry crossed his silver eyes as he glared at his friend, a sense of failure filling him at letting Mana down. That's why he was going to make it up to him.

"Don't worrie Mana, I'll ge'it!" declared the 5 year old as he ran forward. This would only entice the dog, Mana knew it.

Just like he predicted, the dog jumped back as Allen gave chase, the brim of the hat clamped firmly in between his teeth. Cries of frustration filled the air as Allen tried obtaining the hat from his furry friend, the pair weaving in and out of people as they played their little game of cat and mouse. And it wasn't helping that some of the performers were coaxing the dog to run faster, or better yet, towards them.

An ounce of hope filled the devastated Clown as the dog came trotting over to the nearest person. Dropping the hat into the man's open arms, said man gave a smirk of satisfaction as he began throwing the hat out like a Frisbee for the dog to catch. Devastation was replaced with horror as Mana watched the dog catch the hat in mid-air, his teeth clamping onto the body of the hat and bringing it back to the man in open eagerness. This was just too much for the poor Clown.

Sinking back into his seat beside Klaud, he hung his head in hopelessness, cringing ever so slightly with every cry of 'I got it' he heard from his son, followed by a 'shoot' or 'no fair'. There would be no sparing for his poor old hat. Klaud noticed the hopelessness that was in the Clown's eyes as he suddenly gave up hoping for his hat to be all in one piece. A small smirk of enjoyment crossed her face as she smugly said, "Serves you right."

"Shut up." Mana would've came up with a better comeback but watching this had drained him.

Sighing as she shook her head in dismay, she gave a snap of her fingers and suddenly, a small monkey scrambled up onto her shoulder. Chattering softly to itself, it looked up at the young animal tamer as she said, "Go get that hat over there Lau Shimin." Pointing over to where Allen and his furry friend were as they fought to catch the hat, the monkey gave some form of chatter person jumping off her shoulder, soon to scamper on over to where the duo were. Watching as the dog once again brought the hat back over to the performer, the little monkey quickly scrambled up atop Allen's head and stayed perched up there as the hat came flying through the air.

Waiting for the right moment, the monkey suddenly jumped into the air, catching the hat before the dog had a chance to ensnare it with his teeth. Both Allen and the dog were taken aback, both staring at the little monkey holding the enormous hat with wide eyes. Neither of them moved as the monkey ran off, their eyes following it's movements as it ran over to where Klaud and Mana sat.

Enthusiastic chatter coming from the monkey filled the air as Klaud took the hat out of its two small hands, giving the bitten and chewed hat a good shake as she attempted to expel any lingering dirt and slobber. Once deciding that the hat was fairly adequate, she tapped Mana's shoulder as a sign he took as she needed his attention. Looking up, his features soon became filled with joy as he snatched the hat out of her hand, his face flickering to momentary disgust as he felt the lingering slobber that had soaked the brim of the hat.

None the less though, he still felt grateful.

"Ah, thank you Klaud, for getting my hat back before it was…ruined any further…" thanked the Clown with a nervous chuckle, stiffly placing the ruined top hat back on his head. He forced himself not to shudder and grimace at the feel of drool soaking the top of his hair.

"Karma works both ways." She replied simply, waving away the thanks as she scratched Lau Shimin's chin. She needn't need the Clown's thanks. Mana sighed before turning back forward to watch his child run back to him in earnest, his small frame ramming into his chest and effectively knocking the air out of him. Almost sent sprawling back, he tried to recover his breath as the little 5 year old boy clung to the front of his shirt, sobbing out apologies.

"I'm so sowie Mana, I didn' mean to get your hat dirtie!" cried the child into his chest, wishing ever so much to be forgiven for something he hadn't purposely or intentionally done. But at the moment, Mana was out of breath, the wind still knocked out of his lungs. This made the small boy nervous, his silence only causing his anxiety to escalate.

Pushing away from his father's chest, Allen looked up with teary eyes and a trembling bottom lip to see the man giving him a gentle smile, one that showed that he wasn't mad. With sputtering breath, he said, "I know it wasn't your fault…you didn't mean for it to happen. Besides…it was getting time that I got a new hat."

That wasn't true. The hat that was now desecrated and atop his head was no more than a few months old, bought fresh and new when he could finally afford a new hat. It would just mean he would have to save up what little earnings he made to buy a new one. Though it was going to take awhile.

Relief washed over the little boy's features as he nuzzled back into Mana's chest, seemingly pleased that he hadn't upset his father. Muttering words of thanks, he didn't leave the comfort and security of his chest until the poignant smell of succulent food wafted their senses. Perking up, Allen peeled himself away from Mana as his mouth began watering, watching in growing interest as the day's meal was distributed out.

But luckily the two of them didn't have to wait long, another one of their friends' bringing them each a bowl of steaming hot vegetable soup accompanying a fresh roll of bread. "You two looked starve. A nice bowl of hot soup should do you two some justice!" said a feminine voice as she handed the two of them their individual bowls. It would surprise most that Allen's was excessively larger compared to Mana's, that is to say if you didn't know the kid.

Allen began smacking his lips in expectance as he snatched his large bowl away, draining away the contents in record time. The woman, in her mid twenties or so took a seat beside Klaud, offering her a bowl as well once Mana had had his. Giving the older woman an appreciative smile, she gladly accepted, allowing Lau Shimin to pick at the roll as she ate. Mana took tentative sips of the simple soup, actually savoring the taste unlike some people who shall remain nameless.

Mouth now stuffed with a large, irregular shaped roll, Allen fought for speech while at the same, trying to chew, flecks of bread flying out of his mouth as he said, "Thanks Bell!" How he actually manage to pronounce both words without trouble was beyond them all. Bell looked past her friends over to the boy, giving him a tender smile before replying "It's not a problem. Everyone here knows that a growing boy such as yourself needs all the food he can get so that he can grow up to be a strong, healthy young man like your father."

Her comment certainly brought a smile on his face as he swallowed what was left of his roll, beaming up at her brightly. Everyone knew just how much he adored his Clown of a father. And they certainly cared a lot about Allen, even more so when they had all learned about his…little disability. Instead of reacting in disgust upon seeing his deformed arm for the first time, they all seemed to silently agree upon the fact that, whatever happened, they would protect him. None of them judged him for his discolored, disfigured deformity, something he couldn't control. And many of the so called 'freaks' were really understanding and the most sympathetic. It was what was on the inside that mattered, they had told him back when he had just turned 5, and Allen certainly had a lot of heart to go around.

Everyone in the circus was willing to pull their share in making sure Allen was happy. Well, all except one man.

"Ah, not this cruddy soup again!"

All heads turned to see a robust man entering his 40s glaring down at the bowl in his hands, a disgruntled look on his face as he stomped on over to the only remaining seat situated around the roaring fire. And sadly that was beside Christian. Plopping down angrily, he continued glaring down at his bowl of soup as he tentatively scoped out a piece of carrot. He hated carrots.

"Agh, I can't take much more this." Grumbled the man as he pushed the bowl aside, refusing to eat such food at the moment. They all had resided with eating various types of soups for the last two weeks because of the fact that food supplies were starting to become low. They wouldn't be able to obtain the needed supplies until tomorrow, the day before they packed up and moved on to the next town. So they had to settle with soup until then, and thankfully all of their waiting would be paid off.

Still, the performer wasn't all too happy.

Allen promptly scrambled over hesitantly over to where he sat, a look of nervous fear filling his silver eyes as he fiddled with his hands, trying to discreetly grab his attention. But no matter how discreetly or how quietly he waited to be noticed, the man never failed to snap at him in annoyance, "What'd you want, you filthy leech?" The boy, surprisingly, did not flinch, despite all the fear that was in his young eyes. Nervously, he said, "You won' have to wait long Cosimo, they'll get all the good foo'd tomowow."

Cosimo only gave the boy a grunt as a reply, crossing his arms across his broad chest as he looked away in annoyance. He really didn't like the kid. Partly because all the women fawned over him whenever he just flashed them a smile and partly because he found no use for the little leech. Just like he found no use for the stupid dog. His aggravation only grew upon noticing that the little brat was still standing before him, nervously tugging on his white gloves as he kept his gaze down at his feet.

"What now?" he barked, infuriation in his sinister eyes. Allen tensed up at the harshness, but otherwise did not move from the spot. "Um…are you goin' to eat that?"

The circus performer shook with suppressive rage, his temper rising as he glared daggers at the boy. He could not believe that that little brat, the little leech, was asking if he could eat the food. Somehow that upset him more than he thought it would. Maybe it was because it was the little useless brat asking if he could have it. Yeah, that's why.

"Grr…knock yourself out brat!" growled Cosimo as he thrust the bowl into the boy's arms harshly, some of the soup toppling out of the bowl and onto the boy's crisp white shirt. The boy yelped in surprise at the sudden sensation of hot, flavored water seeping through the front of his shirt, scalding his sensitive skin. This earned a smirk of pleasure from Cosimo. And it only got better when the flea bag came padding over, licking at the droplets of soup that trickled to the ground.

Drawing his foot back, he gave the dog a swift kick in the ribs, causing the terrier to yelp out in startlement and pain as it scurried on over to Mana. The dog instantly jumped into his arms, cowering into his sleeve as it shook in fear. Mana wasn't all too happy with Cosimo, the two of them having never actually seen eye to eye even before Allen was unexpectedly dropped into his world. Growling softly in his throat, he got to his feet, the whimpering dog still in his arms.

Stiffly making his way over to the trembling boy as he slowly sipped what was left of the cooling soup. Before he had a chance to do just that, the Clown yanked the bowl out of his child's hands and proceeded to pour the contents into the fire. A noticeable hiss could be heard as the liquid quickly evaporated away, hot steam rising with the smoke momentarily as the soup evaporated. Allen watched in distress, indignation in his features as Mana placed a stern hand on one of his shoulders.

It seemed as though food mattered more than his stained shirt at the moment. But Mana ignored it.

"Cosimo, it would serve you well if you leave both Tramp and Allen alone." Seethed Mana, anger rising as he tightened his grip around one his child's shoulders. Cosimo just looked up at him boredly, grunting in acknowledgement. Though the Clown knew full well that he wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying.

Turning back to Allen, he sighed before mumbling, "I think it's time we call it a night, huh Allen?" But the boy merely pouted, his gaze shifting up at Mana. "But I'm not—"

"Yeah, but daddy is." Interrupted the Clown as he hoisted Allen up to his hip, his right arm wrapped securely around the child's small waist. This caught the child off guard, soon bursting out in giggles at the unexpected position he was in. Maneuvering Tramp around to mimic the position Allen was in, only on the opposite hip, he gave a deep bow while dishing out his farewells and goodnights. Allen gave a childish wave from his comical position on his father's hip as they left, earning a round of giddy giggles from all the women present.

This left Cosimo fuming.

**DGMDGMDGM**

As soon as Mana had gotten them all to his tent, he dropped the two of them to the floor, moaning in pain as he stretched. His back gave a few audible pops as relief washed over him, the stiffness ebbing away gradually as he rolled his shoulders and neck. _"Remind me to never do that again…"_ thought Mana as he turned back to Allen, removing his dirtied shirt before going to get his night clothes.

Changing the child out of the clothes swiftly, he ushered the boy over to his own cot, against the child's protest. "But Mana," he paused as he gave a big yawn before continuing, "I'm not…sleepy…" The Clown gave him a skeptical look, one eyebrow arched as he practically pushed the child up onto the cot. "Yeah, sure you are…"

As soon as he hit the lumpy fabric, he was out like a light, Tramp jumping on to rest beside him. Mana softly chuckled as he gave his son's hair a tousle and his performing partner a curt pat on the head before retiring to his own side of the tent.

Loosening the tie left wrapped around his neck like a coiling snake, Mana removed his ruined top hat as he sank down onto the foot of his cot. Sighing, he fell back, tossing his hat somewhere to the side as he gazed up at the tent, his thoughts fleeting. He, at first, thought of Cosimo and how much he disliked the man. His despicable nature was wholly unsuited for a clown. And yet, he still managed to pull off a very authentic clown. Why he had chosen a path that delegated him to make smiles when he inside was a very sour person was beyond him.

But then his thoughts turned to his son, which ultimately came with a price; thoughts of his estranged brother came along with him. He missed his brother dearly, wishing for anything in the world to just seem him again. Or at least hear from him. Was getting a single, messily written letter explaining his whereabouts too much to ask? Probably. His brother probably had good reasons why he hadn't sent them a single letter…in over 5 years. Unless he was…

No, Mana could not bear the thought of it. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his dark, chestnut colored hair as he got to his feet. Pulling away the tie and jacket, he began unbuttoning his grey vest when something caught the corner of his eye. Freezing in his actions, he turned slowly to his right to see something thin, white, and somewhat crumpled flapping behind his mirror.

"_Funny, that wasn't there before…was it?"_ thought Mana as he tiredly ambled over to where his mirror sat. Curious minded, he cautiously pulled the paper away, interested to learn its contents. But it was something he wasn't really expecting.

"What the hell…"

_Author's Note: I had to leave this as a cliff-hanger because it was starting to get to be too long. But if you wish to speculate, fill free to do so. I would like to, once again, thank my beta reader __**Allen the Musician **__and all those who had found it in their time to review. I don't own anything, like I said in the beginning, nor do I own any songs used. _


	5. Hellish Black and Heavenly White

Ch. 4

'_The lover of life's not a sinner_

_The ending is just a beginning_

_The closer you get to the meaning_

_The sooner you'll know that_

_You're just dreaming.'_

_-Black Sabbath: Heaven and Hell_

Strange markings scrawled across the crumpled piece of paper greeted Mana's vision, each of them elegant in a bizarre sort of way. From what he could deduce from this sudden glance, they appeared to be just nonsense scribble. But on closer examination, due to the fact that he couldn't draw his eyes away, it appeared that some sort of strange pattern was made, though the symbols were so sporadic and inconsistent that it was difficult to make heads or tails of its meaning.

Confused by this strange writing, he turned the paper over, only to find more of the cryptic and alien symbols. Giving a disgruntled sound, Mana flipped and flipped the paper, turning it this way and that as he racked his brain over what the hell he was looking at. It all seemed like utter gibberish, but somewhere, deep down inside, he knew it wasn't. Somehow, in some strange and cosmic way, he felt it was important. But how so, that he was still clueless in.

Sighing at his inability to understand the meanings (that is, if they even had meanings) of the symbols, he decided to just sleep on it. But as he was about to place it in a drawer that had its own lock, a place he was sure Allen wouldn't get into, the symbols somehow changed. He had to stop himself from gasping out in both awe and surprise as his eyes widened, a hand going up to his mouth as the symbols finally made some sense to this old circus clown.

The symbols were music notes. The piece of paper was some sort of musical score.

"_Two are authorized to be the pianist…"_

Mana moaned in pain as he dropped the sheet of paper to the floor, his hands going up to the sides of his head. Sweat was beginning to form on his face, the skin becoming clammy as he gritted his teeth, his eyes closed tight. His head was screaming out in pain, the pain only growing in intensity the longer he tried to ignore it. At the rate it was going, it felt like his head was going to split in two. His gloved fingers dug into his head, pressing dangerously hard on his temples as he pushed the skin tight.

The voice wouldn't stop echoing inside his head, distant and almost incomprehensible. It almost sounded like…no, that wasn't even possible. Or was it? I mean, one moment he had been starring down at a piece of paper that didn't make sense, and the next, it couldn't have been clearer. What the hell was happening to him? Whatever it was, he didn't particularly like it all that much.

He bit down hard on his tongue, fighting the urge to scream as the pain continued to increase in intensity. He wanted to thrash around, to knock down everything in his sight, and to scream like there was no tomorrow. Instead though, he had to settle with biting on his tongue. After all, Allen was just a few feet away. But he was fast asleep, maybe he wouldn't…no, he wouldn't break like a lesser man. He would take it all, even at the expense of hurting himself. Though it was getting increasingly harder to consider that when the sharp, coppery taste of blood was filling his mouth.

Gagging at the taste, Mana weakly wobbled over to his cot, collapsing onto it soon after as he spat some of the blood soaked saliva out onto the dirt floor. He grimaced slightly at the sight, cringing as a little bit of saliva slowly slid down his chin, dyed red from his blood. This, sadly, did not relieve any of the pain, his throbbing head only getting worse. Soon, his senses started to fail him. First the sound began drowning out, then his sight began getting brighter and brighter until he could see nothing but white.

The next thing he knew, he passed out.

**DGMDGMDGM**

_Mana Walker stood alone in a world filled with silence, the colors washed away so that all there was, was a world of blacks and whites. The sky above was pitch black, white stars glittering here and there across the velvet back drop. A white crescent moon hung over head, its form, though normal as it may seem, brought chills up his spine. Somehow, he didn't think the moon was meant to be anything but friendly._

_Sighing, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. He stood upon a lone, cobbled brick road, surrounding haphazardly by trees stripped down to nothing but their skeletal barks. Various crucifixes stood solemn and eerie atop the dull surface of the water surrounding the cobble brick path. The scene was definitely daunting, the effect only intensifying the dreary world he was placed in. If only he could find a way out of here…_

_Turning his gaze back forward, he decided to do the next best thing: walking. It was the only way that would ensure him that he could possibly get any answers. So walking forward he did, the sound of his clapping foot falls echoing off into the endless abyss of white nothingness just behind him. He didn't really know what he was suppose to do or why he was even here, all he knew was that he needed to continue moving forward if he was to ever find anything._

_Listening to the repetitive tempo of his own footsteps was starting to get on his nerves though. It was the only sound within this god forsaken place and that wasn't setting well with him. Would it kill to have something a little different around here? Yes, maybe it would. _

"Two are authorized to be the pianist…"

_Mana froze at the words, faltering in his step as he came to a halt. That voice…could it be…well, there was only one way to find out. Looking over his shoulder with apprehension, he was greeted with…nothing. Confused, he turned back all the way, and gave the side of his head a tentative scratch. He could've sworn someone had been behind him, uttering those strange words. Maybe it was all in his head…_

"One shall be the Musician…"

_Now he knew it wasn't in his head. Cocking his head to the left, his heart literally skipped a beat as his breath hitched, his eyes widening in surprise. Out of surprise he stumbled back, a mixed feeling of panic and joy filling him as he stared at the back of an all too familiar figure. He couldn't stop himself from wispily whispering under his breath, in total disbelief. "Allen…"_

_His brother continued to keep his back to him, not even flinching at the sound of his own name being called. The only reaction he got out of him was his fists tightening ever so slowly, his head dipping briefly soon after. Then he suddenly brought a hand to his face, his shoulders tensing as if he were in pain. The reaction startled Mana, to say the least. He desperately wanted to reach out to him and discover what was paining him but couldn't find it in himself to move from his spot. He couldn't move at all; it was if his body was rooted to that one spot._

_Inwardly struggling to free himself from the sightless bonds chaining him to that one spot, he was unaware that they weren't alone. "Who are you referring to?" The second voice caused Mana's head to whip to the right, heart beating faster as his eyes fell upon the backside of the little boy he had so affectionately named after his father. He also brought a hand to his face, his shoulders bunching up as his body shook, as if he were crying. _

_Mana didn't know what to do._

_He wanted to say something but couldn't find the right words to say. And it didn't help that his throat was tightening, unable or unwilling to issue out any words. As he struggled for speech, the sound of approaching footsteps behind and in front of him caught his attention. Looking forward and then over his shoulder, he went to go look back at his brother and nephew, only to find them gone. And with that discovery, he suddenly found himself able to move, his body not feeling as stiff as it had been before._

_Stumbling forward, he ran a hand through his hair as he took his top hat off, struggling to calm himself. But that was getting increasingly harder the closer the two pairs of footsteps came towards him. Looking back up, he strained his eyes to see who was coming, the haze that had suddenly descended making it difficult to do so. The footsteps drew closer and closer until they suddenly stopped. But by then he could make out who the two figures were._

_In front of him stood a shadowed being, his physical body veiled in darkness that only left his features blank, with the exception of hallowed out eyes of mindless white and a perpetual smile of twisted insanity. The way he swayed back and forth as he stood there made Mana wary of his presence, though he couldn't help but feel he recognized the person somehow. Although that was kind of hard to base the assumption on seeing as how the person's features had all but been erased. _

_Then he turned his head back behind him. Behind him stood another figure, clad in all black with the exception of silver trimmings. He wore a hood, a bushel of white hair concealing his features from the bridge of his nose up. From his features and overall body language, he appeared to be young but the white hair was proving to be a discrepancy to his initial assumption. A smile was on his face despite the fact that it looked like blood was streaming down the left side of his face. His image itself was strange, but that's not what kept him from staring._

_His entire left arm had taken on the form of an oversize metallic claw with a blood red cross resting in the center. It hung low to the floor, the hook like claws curled slightly to appear even more menacing. As if they weren't already. _

_Mana had a sinking feeling that he wasn't going to enjoy what was about to happen next, especially when he was in the middle of it. Unsure of what to do, he took a step out of the way, the simple and curt motion setting the two of them off like wild dogs. Both charged at the other, neither of them willing to stir away from their chosen path. They soon crashed into each other as they leaped in the air, the two of them clawing at each other as they came crashing down together._

_All Mana could do was watch as the two figures tried killing each other, both very ruthless with their attacks. He was torn up inside as he continued watching, unsure of which side he wanted to win. Was it possible that he wanted both sides to win? Probably. Was it possible that he wanted neither side to die? Probably. Was it possible that this fight was very petty? Maybe. Did it hold a deeper meaning that he couldn't quite grasp? Yeah._

_The shadow and the boy continued their dance of death, neither faltering in step as they continued to fight like starved mongrels fighting over a scrap of food. The youth in black was currently spinning through the air, the faceless shadow spinning him around by his ankle until he suddenly let go. Watching the boy fly through the air with self satisfaction, the shadow suddenly turned to Mana, his smile increasing in size as he swayed over to where he stood frozen. _

_Fear threatened to overwhelm him as he instinctively took a few steps back. He didn't know who this stranger was, and was sure as hell he wasn't willing to find out. But he was soon running out of space, the cobble stoned path soon approached it's end as it met up with the body of water. Foot slipping on the edge as he suddenly came to a halt; he glared back at the shadow man, unsure of what to do next. That is, until the shadow man's features suddenly started to return._

_The face of his beloved brother greeted him, the smile that was there before slowly fading away as he came to a stop in front of the confused man. Standing before him was his brother but at the same time, not. For one thing, his skin and hair had darkened, his once pale skin becoming ashen as his chestnut ginger hair darkened to grey mahogany, his eyes shifting from inquisitive blue to malicious gold. A stream of cross like symbols adorned his forehead, seven in total. _

_This wasn't his brother…was it?_

_"Who were you referring to?" he asked, the very same question little Allen had asked before he and the man that really was his brother had suddenly disappeared. By the look in his gold eyes, he expected an answer, his mouth thin lip as his face became blank and cold. "Me," continued the stranger poising as his brother when the mighty claw ensnared him from behind, clamping onto his body tight. He looked down with mild interest as the claws dug into the front of his shirt and into his skin. He seemed unfazed by the treatment he had to endure._

_Looking back up, he stared at Mana with cold, lifeless eyes as he said, "Or him?" He was suddenly yanked back once he said this, pulled away by the mysterious white haired youth. Confused, Mana ran forward, to his own surprise, racing after the twisted and corrupted form of his little brother. The man who looked like his brother struggled behind the grip until wrenching himself free, gashes running along his body as he did so. _

_Mana watched in horror as blood splattered out onto the floor, the blood a hellish black. But the wounds rapidly recovered, healing in the blink of an eye. It was frighteningly fascinating. The youth spun out of many kicks and swings, occasionally being cuffed in the face when he wasn't prepared for it. Spitting out heavenly white blood as he slid back from the recent blow, he charged forward, his claws flexing in anxious earnest. His brother ducked under the powerful swipe from the youth, grabbing the claw in an attempt to throw him off his feet. But the youth had expected this and braced himself, allowing himself to be thrown to the floor before grabbing a hold of the man's ankle._

_Throwing him away, the youth pushed himself up to his feet as he watched the man slide over to the edge, threatening to fall into the water. The white haired youth stood hovering over him, his face solemn as he stared down at his enemy. The man was staring right back up, their gazes locked as they remained still for a moment. Then, the youth drew back his mighty claw slowly, poised and ready to deliver the death blow when he was suddenly stopped. "No, Allen stop!" cried Mana, causing the youth to suddenly freeze up, his demonic left hand trembling as it fought to move._

_Slowly, the white haired youth turned his gaze over to Mana, his mouth gaping slightly while his eyes remained hidden underneath his bangs. But he didn't need to see them, he already knew what would greet him would only be astonished and hurtful silver eyes. He had done something terribly wrong, he knew he had. He couldn't stop the dread from overwhelming him. Exactly what had he done though? He was about to find out._

_Smirking in triumph, his brother leaped into the air while the youth was paralyzed in his actions, getting him into an arm lock as he pushed the two of them off and into the water. Finally snapped out of his commanded pause, the youth struggled to free himself from the vice grip of the man as they were sent plummeting downwards into the unknown. Mana rushed over to the surface in horror struck, watching in fear as the youth somehow manage to break free and make it to the surface. _

_Gasping for breath, he flailed around in the water as he fought to get back to land. But he never got a chance. He was suddenly pulled back under, the water splashing in fury as his clawed arm came back up once more to the surface. It appeared to be reaching out to Mana, the claws spread out wide as they fought to grab something until it too was pulled down. Ripples continued to distill the water as the two figures soon became swallowed by the darkness until all became quiet and still._

_Mana found himself unable to stop himself from crying, the tears sliding down his face as he slowly watched the blue water become dyed in red. The sight was gruesome, the gore filled water spreading everywhere as a reminder of what he had down. He had allowed his own son to be killed by his father. What kind of man was he? _

"_I'm coming Allen, hold on." Whispered Mana as he began crawling into the crimson waters, struggling to ignore the sloshing sound of the water as it splashed up the side of the cobbled stone bricks. Crawling further out, he fought to control himself as he continued on, bile rising up his throat as some of the blood filled water splashed up onto his face. His head was screaming for him to turn back, but his heart was pushing him forward. "Hold on son, I'm coming to get you…" gasped Mana as he swam out, not knowing where he was supposed to go._

_Then he felt something grab a hold of his ankle._

_Looking down in distress, he nearly retched at the unexpected sight of the shadow man, the white grin still plastered on his face as he said, "You only love me now…I'm the one you love." Mana brought a hand to his mouth, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach in when another grabbed a hold of his opposite ankle. The sight soon became too much and he was forced to empty out his stomach._

_Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stared down horror struck as Allen, little 5 year old Allen, stared up at him with dead, unseeing eyes, his small body mangled and broken. "Why'd you let me die? Why don't you love me anymore? Why Mana…" Mana didn't have the heart nor the guts to answer him, he himself not even knowing why he had stopped him. Had he truly loved his brother more than the boy he had since considered his own son?_

_He never got a chance to figure out the answer to that question. He was suddenly pulled under by brute force, surprised by it all as he was dragged along into the abyss. There was no escaping this fate. He could scream all he want, but that wouldn't change the fact that he was doomed._

_There was no escaping this world of black and white._

**DGMDGMDGM**

Slowly consciousness returned to the Clown, his eyes slowly adjusting to the sudden flow of hallowed light. Blinking away the weariness from his eyes, he dragged a hand down his face as he groaned. What the hell was that dream about? And why couldn't he stop shaking? His body continued to shake terribly, sweat trailing his temples. That had been one hell of a dream, or nightmare, that he had had. It had felt so real, almost as if it had happened all at that very moment. But thankfully that that was all it was, a dream. An insignificant, unimportant dream.

If that were true thought, then why couldn't he keep himself from shaking?

Swallowing down the lump in this throat, he shook his head as he got up, stretching as he went to finish changing. Who knows how long he's been sleeping in his casual clothes. Pulling on his night clothes, he slipped his shoes off and made his way over to the gas lap. But as he made his way over to it, his foot stepped on something. Looking down, he came face o face with the very thing that had started it all. The dreaded piece of paper.

Bending down, he peeled off the tattered piece of paper from underneath his foot and glared down at the bizarre notes. Anger rose in him as he stared down, his blood beginning to boil the longer he glared at the piece of paper. Growling in the back of his throat, he slowly curled his hand around the sheet, crumpling it into a ball within his clenched fist. Feeling somewhat satisfied, he tossed the paper ball into a nearby waste basket and went back to turning off the gas lamp.

But as soon as he blew it out, a low whining sound filled the space, causing Mana to stumble out in the dark. Stubbing his big toe on something, he cursed aloud as he began hopping on one foot. Muttering a stream of curses soon after he slowly made his way over to the source of the sound. Limping over, he groped about the darkness until he finally came to his attended destination.

He found little Allen tossing and turning, restless in his sleep as he continued making little pained noises. Concerned, Mana got down to his knees so that he was leveled with the boy, gently shaking him in an attempt to wake him up. Tramp was also awake, his ears pushed back in fear as he too began keening and whining.

"Allen…Allen…wake up Allen." Muttered the Clown at he continued his attempt on waking the boy. The child gave another distressful whine before suddenly screaming, his body thrashing around madly, causing the dog to jump off the cot out of fear. Mana was soon on full alert as he leaped forward, pinning the small frame of his son down, hoping that it would at least prevent him from hurting himself.

He continued calling out his name, shaking him furiously in a futile attempt to snap him out of it. Patting his cheeks and snapping his fingers up to his face, he was forced to leave the child's side in order to get a bucket of water. Rushing back once that was accomplished, he dumped the ice cold contents atop the boy's head, causing him to suddenly snap awake, his eyes opening wide in surprise. Panting in growing panic as he teetered on the verge of hyperventilating, Allen suddenly caught sight of Mana and began trying to relax.

Sweat was trailing his face, his eyes wide in fear as they began tearing up, his bottom lip trembling as he fought back the urge to cry. He never enjoyed crying in front of Mana much. "Mana…I had a scarie dream." Whimpered Allen as he sat up, shivering from the cold. Mana gave a thoughtful nod as he sat beside his son, Allen shooting into his arms as he clung to his chest, silently sobbing. He gave Allen a few pats, rubbing circles into his back as he held him close. "Shh…it's alright. It was just a dream, nothing more. Dreams can't hurt you." Soothed Mana as he scooped Allen into his arms, pushing up onto his feet wearily before slowly ambling over to his own cot.

"But this one was reallie scarie. It had this funny man and creepy music and told me things, very bad things …it was just bad! Oh don't leave me Mana!" sobbed the boy as he clung to him more fiercely, refusing to let go as Mana sank down into his cot.

Holding him close, the Clown silently listened to his son continue to cry, not the least bit uncomfortable at the feel of the boy's tears soaking the front of his shirt. "I won't little one…I promise I won't." Mumbled Mana as he fell back, rolling onto his side to get into a more comfortable position on the cot. He tried coaxing the boy into talking about it, but he wouldn't hear of it. He just kept muttering that it was bad and it wasn't for him to hear.

Eventually he relented and didn't ask him again about it, choosing to instead continue rubbing circles into his back, allowing him to cuddle up against him. Soon after the boy fell back asleep, slightly shivering as he slept. Mana watched, dabbing away at the boy's soaked hair with one of his blankets. As he did this, he was unable to shake the feeling that something big had just begun, as if some unknown wheels had been pushed into motion.

And it had all started with that strange piece of paper.

_Author's Note: Thank you__** Allen the Musician**__ for beta-reading this once again, your job goes appreciated. And special thanks to all those who reviewed, Hitokiri Shinzui, Gray Note, Peculiar Top Hat, Miss. Jessi-Pon, Panda-Hiroko, and Allen the Musician._

_This chapter was sort of inspired by the song New Divide by Linkin Park I guess. The idea of what to do in it at least, the action part. It all came to me when I listened to that song. And the song, Liberi Fatali (it's the opening song for final fantasy 8) kind of helped as well. Music helps me think, it sets the pace._

_I'll try updating this in a 6-7 day span unless something were to come up to prevent me from doing so. _


	6. Confliction

Ch. 5

'_It's your heart in this moment_

_Breathing into what I dream_

_In my heart it is this feeling_

_In my nightmares while I scream.'_

_-The Last Dance: Nightmares_

The morning greeted them with a blazing sun, filling the skies with a sense of unbridled promise and a clean slate. Allen awoke to find Mana long gone, causing panic to bloom freshly in his heart as he sat up. Breathing rather frantically for someone who had just woken up, he pushed past the covers and stepped off the cot, tripping in his trepidation to free himself from the make-shift bed. Falling hard to the earthy floor, he ignored the nagging pain of his left arm as he pulled himself once more to his feet.

Practically hyperventilating at this point, he looked around the shared tent feverishly, his head turning this way and that as he began searching for the Clown. His voice had been lost within his fears, his constricting throat tightening the longer it took him to look for Mana. He wanted to call out but couldn't find it in his power or ability to do so. He was basically left speechless and that wasn't helping things at all.

Biting his lower lip, Allen began pacing around, trying to be brave and stay calm but his nightmare from the night before was proving to be contradictory. Images were still fresh in his head from the experience, unbidden images flooding into his mind at the mere remembrance of such an occurrence. He pushed them back, fought to suppress them, but everything he tried wouldn't work and soon enough, he found the mean words echoing back inside his head.

It was if it was his nightmare had been brought real.

He clamped his eyes shut, willing the voice and the images to go away, but he wasn't strong enough to fight them off. He wasn't strong like Mana was. He couldn't forget them no matter how hard he tried, the recurring images and voice making it impossible to do so. They were overwhelming, suffocating, and it didn't help that Mana wasn't there to protect him, to defend him from all the nightmares. Where was his father?

What if he broke their promise…just like that _man_ said he would?

His chest tightened, his throat constricting as a strangled sob came, his eyes becoming glassy with tears as he twiddled his fingers uneasily. What if that was true? I mean, it did explain Mana's absence. Who's to say he just didn't get up and leave the first chance he got? But Mana wasn't like that, _his_ Mana wasn't like that. Mana loved him very much, he loved him despite his…_handicap_. Fathers weren't supposed to abandon their sons. But that would help explain his absence.

Soon after his knees gave out, forcing him down into a kneeling position as he hugged himself. Scooting back, he hid under Mana's make-up table, hoping to hide from his innermost demons and unrelenting nightmares. They all were pestering him, like an unreachable itch, nagging for his attention. Tears streamed down his face, streaking his flushed cheeks as he sobbed, unable to control himself as he trembled in anxiety fuelled fear. For an instant though, he thought he saw a shadow move across the tarp of the tent, his blinding fear leading him to believe that it was that man again. The scary man. The evil man.

The one from his dream.

The very notion caused him to cry even harder, his hands going up to his face as he pushed back, his back pressing hard against the wood-work of the table. He wanted to be saved, wanted someone to come to his rescue and vanquish the evil demons that plagued him. But his savior was currently missing, left under the presumption of abandoning him. And Allen had no one to turn to but himself at the moment, the prospect very unnerving when he knew for fact he wasn't strong-minded and strong-willed as to confront his fears.

Hiccupping from his strangled sobs, he shrank back further when he heard someone come in, the approaching shadow causing him to bring his hands back up to his face. He tried to be quiet but it was impossible to control his sobs. And when he felt hands fall upon his shoulders, he couldn't stop himself from shrieking, the delicate hands moving up his hands before slowly pulling them away, forcing a frightened Allen to meet eye to eye with the mysterious assailant.

"It's alright sweetie. I'm not going to hurt you, nothing is going to hurt you."

**DGMDGMDGM**

The sound of a child's shriek carried by the wind reached Mana's ears before he even made it to the circus grounds, the familiar sight only a dozen feet away. Upon hearing it though, he stiffened, stopping in his pace to stare out at the distant cone like images of tents. The bag of groceries from his earlier excursion to the market fell to the floor forgotten as he sprinted forward, ignoring the fact that it was very unseemly for someone his age in society other than a child to go running out like they were being chased, but he couldn't ignore the possibility that the cry had come from his child.

And it seemed as though all signs were pointing to him invertible anyway.

"Hey! What's the big deal?" hollered his companion, a male acrobat who had been assigned with Mana to fetch the needed supplies before they shipped out tomorrow morning. Mana felt somewhat guilty of leaving his friend to pick up his share of the supplies, but it wasn't nearly as powerful as the storm of worry that was blooming in his heart.

He didn't have time for simple groceries. So what if it was nothing, but maybe it was something. He just had to make sure.

"Sorry Matthew." He hollered over his shoulder, his speed unwavering. His companion and colleague muttered something under his breath but didn't otherwise protest. Thank goodness for that.

Running as though the devil himself was at his heels, Mana rushed over to his tent as fast as he could, bolting in to find a startled Alina cradling a clingy Allen, his cheek resting on her ample chest as he gave the occasional sniffle and hiccup. She was absent-mindedly bouncing him around, rubbing circles into his back as he struggled for composure. When she caught sight of Mana, an apologetic look came onto her face as she flinched, a sense of failure on her features as she took him in.

Upon noticing Mana was there, Allen seemed to lighten up before suddenly and quite unexpectedly scowling, his face still very flushed as he turned away, his face burying into Alina's silky shawl. It hurt Mana to no incredible end to be suddenly snubbed like that by his own child. He must have done something wrong, that was all there was to it. But what he did, he couldn't quite figure out. All he could muster up from his vast bank of vocabulary was, "What happened?"

"I don't know, I heard him crying, so I came back. I swear Mana, I was only gone for just a few minutes. They needed my help with some things, and Allen was still asleep at the time…and well, I thought he'd still be asleep when I got back." Explained Alina, a look of guilt on her face as she switched to stroking his fuzzy brown hair. Mana had asked her to watch the boy while he still slept while he went out to help Matthew with gathering the needed supplies for tomorrow's send off.

Mana let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding slowly, pulling off his mangled top hat and running a hand through his hair. Alright, at least it eliminated the possibility that someone had been hurting him, and if it had been that reason then let's just say Cosimo wouldn't have been able to sit right for at least a couple of days. But with that possibility out of the, what could've happened to cause him to cry, let alone scream bloody murder?

Well, there was only one person who could answer that.

Stepping closer, Mana placed a gloved hand on Allen's shoulder, wishing to grab his attention and not the opposite. Instead, he shrank from the touch, clinging to the bellowing chemise blouse the gypsy was always seen wearing. She tried handing him over but Allen was reluctant, his little fists tightening further around her shirt. She looked to Mana, looking sheepish as she shrugged, her attention going back to the boy in her arms.

"Allen, Mana's here now. You can get down now." Coaxed the confused Romanian, pulling the reluctant boy off of her and placing him to the ground. He went limp in her arms, body relaxing on command as he was set down, his legs un-supporting and unwilling. Sinking to the floor, he refused to look up at Mana, his gaze fixated on the ground he sat on. It hurt Mana to see him act like this. He MUST have done something wrong to unsettle the boy so terribly.

Noticing the pained expression on the Clown's face, Alina moved to leave, only to have one of Allen's little hands grasp a ruffle of her magenta skirt, silver eyes pleading. Sighing softly, she bent down to his level and held him by his shoulders, her chocolate brown eyes staring right into his silver ones. She began whispering something that Mana couldn't quite catch, or really understand. It lasted briefly, her words seemingly convincing him to let go of her skirt and allowing her a chance to get back to her feet. He moved to follow, but she shot him a look, freezing him in his steps. He looked like he was about to cry.

Then she started speaking in her own language, the light Romanian accent she couldn't quite get rid of now heavier than Mana ever thought possible, the foreign words slipping off her tongue with ease. Allen frowned before nodding slowly, his bottom lip quivering again as she stepped out, leaving Mana shell-shocked. Since when had he learned such a language? He barely was able to pronounce some English words, let alone other dialects. How had he learned Romanian? Well, now wasn't the time to be asking about that. They had more pressing matters to attend to besides figuring how more languages the boy was able to comprehend.

Crouching down before him, he placed his top hat to the ground and fought to catch the boy's eyes. But being as persistent and as stubborn as he was, he wouldn't meet it, his head bowed to the ground. "Allen…what's wrong. Did I do something bad? You can tell me son." Whispered the Clown as he brushed a stray tear away from his child's cheek. Allen turned from the touch, weakly swatting the hand away as he wiped his runny nose with the back of his hand.

"I thought…I thought you left me." Mumbled the boy flatly, his voice having a slight edge to it as he kept his head bowed. "And…I thought you weren't comin' back."

"What made you think that?"

"The scarie man told me."

"What scary man?" asked Mana, a sinking feeling forming a tight knot in his stomach. He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was. He had hoped he had forgotten but it appeared he had not. "Allen, you can tell me. I want to know."

The question rose fear in the child's eyes, terrified silver finally meeting his own worried grayish blue. "No!" he shrieked before running out, the simple question appearing to have struck a nerve. Mana motioned to grab him, but chose against it. This was something he couldn't outright fix, it was going to take some time before it blew over. Whatever had happened must have frightened the child more so than he thought it had. If only he would just tell him what it was, and then maybe he could help.

Still, he should've known better. After all, he had promise he wouldn't leave him and here was, appearing to have broken the promise in the child's eyes.

"I'm such an idiot." Groaned Mana as he ran a hand down his face, pausing to rub the bridge of his nose.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Allen ran as fast as his little legs could carry him, for once not feeling modest by the fact that he was still in his night clothes. But he was desperate to get away, both from his nightmare and from Mana. He didn't know why he acted the way he did, but when Mana had asked about the scary man, he just couldn't take it anymore. He didn't want Mana to know but at the same time, he did. It was complicated, he needed to tell someone about it, but he couldn't tell Mana. He wanted it to be him, but for some reason, it didn't feel right to tell him. Maybe it was because he felt like he wouldn't understand.

Or maybe it was because he didn't want him to find out about what exactly happened.

He had been in it after all.

Furiously wiping his eyes and nose, he paused in his running to catch his breath, the sudden burst of speed causing his lungs to feel as though they were on fire with the chilled air. Gasping slightly, he looked up to find himself in front of the gypsy's tent, a thought coming into his head as he remembered her words. And it brought a small ghost of a smile on his face as he pushed his way through the tent's flap.

She seemed to have an inclination of what he was going through, having sounded like she knew something about it. And he was pretty sure he hadn't said a word about it. Pushing that aside, he figured she might understand, or at least appear that she did. But she was a fortune teller, maybe she knew this was going to happen. And maybe she knew more things, things that might be important for the future. It might help if he knew so that he could stop it from happening.

He didn't want his nightmare to come true.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Mana placed his top hat back on its usual stand on his make-up table before applying any last minute dabs of make-up onto his face. Once sure he was all prepared for the day's performances, he gave a shrill whistle and soon enough, Tramp came trotting over. With stub of a tail wagging feverishly with his tongue lolled out of his mouth, the terrier stood in front of his master expectantly, waiting for him to put on his costume. Smiling at his performing partner's eagerness, he grabbed the dog's costume and began putting it on his companion.

Pushing the ruffled and outrageously sized ruffle collar around his neck, he strapped a pointed hat atop his head and applied a rubber red nose over his own. The dog still wagged his tail feverishly, sitting down to offer him one of his paws. Grabbing it gingerly, Mana slipped on a ruffled wrist band before moving on to the other, his front paws now adorn with colorful fabric ruffles.

Yipping out in excitement, Tramp jumped up once Mana was finished with him, back-flipping as he did so. This earned a few amused chuckles, the Clown shaking his head as he exited the tent, the dog at his heels. Once outside, he took note of the sudden wave of activity that was taking place on the grounds, everyone preparing for the rush of townsfolk eager to see the performances and vendors set up on the grounds outside of their town. It was the last day after all, and people were eager to see it one last time before it disappeared, not to come back for another year.

Their enthusiasm always amazed him, and he enjoyed performing, but he couldn't wait to be out on the road again. Being a Clown took him away from his son a lot and it was only when they were on the road did he get a chance to spend time with him. Speaking of his child, a wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered what had happened not an hour earlier. How could he leave so unexpectedly like that, even if it was just to get groceries? He should've just declined the offer and stayed with Allen while he slept. But no, he just had to go.

He really should've run after his son, but he knew full and well that what he needed was a chance to cool down. He wasn't going to answer him until he calmed down. It was no use trying to get something out of him that he was unwilling to speak of any of it. Though he really wanted to know more about his dream and why he was so deathly afraid of telling him anything about it. But that was all going to have to wait after his upcoming performance. Then he could go and clean up this mess he inadvertently made.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Upon entering the small tent, Allen was greeted with the strong aroma of burning incense and various trinkets, all of which weren't very foreign to him. He had been in it, and various others, more times than most, so it was greatly in the norm for him. Nervously tip-toeing into the clearing, he found Alina hovering over some fragmented quartz and cracked tea cups. Upon noticing she wasn't alone, she fumbled with the cup, nearly dropping it before steadying her hands.

Smiling nervously over her recovery, she turned to look to see who it was but froze. Her shock caused her hands to lose the grip she had over the cup, dropping it to the floor. She had to cover her mouth with her hand in order to muffle the gasp as she stared at little Allen, who wasn't looking quite like himself. But her attention snapped when the cup shattered upon coming into contact with the ground. Looking down at the shards briefly, she looked back up to find Allen looking like his normal, child self.

"Are you alright, Alina?" asked a concerned Allen as he stepped into the hallowed light of the tent, eyes flashing with concern.

She looked to him blankly, unable to formulate the right words to say, only capable of a forced nod. Ignoring the broken glass, she walked over to where Allen stood and got down to his level. Grasping him by his shoulders, she stared into his eyes the same way she had earlier only this time, she was searching for something. Searching for the presence she had sensed in him, the one of unquestionable good or relentless evil. She knew she saw something, something of power rise up inside him for just a brief moment.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't locate its presence.

"Alina? Alina, what are you doing?" The meek and somewhat frighten voice snapped her back to reality, her attention focused on the boy in front of her. Shaking her head of the thought, she looked to him questionably before getting to her feet, a hand rubbing her temple soothingly.

"Sorry, must've got caught up in my train of thought." She said while coughing lightly into her hand, clearing her throat before continuing. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Um…I…I need someone to talk to." He mumbled, nervously fiddling with the fabric of his pants. Alina looked to him sadly, a sigh escaping her lips as she began cleaning up the now useless tea cup.

"I told you Allen, you must confront Mana about this. I can only give you support. I can't help you like he can."

"I can't…it's too scarie! Mana can't know, too bad…"

"The man wasn't real, he was just part of dream. Dreams, they rarely mean anything."

"He was! I know he was real!" cried Allen, his eyes harboring a burning fierceness that hadn't been brought force before. For just a brief instant, she thought she was looking at a different person, the person that hadn't been little Allen, but at the same time was. She couldn't turn away the prospect of finding out more about this, more about how this all connected with what she had thought she saw with that of his future.

She knew from the very moment she first saw him a couple of years ago that he was different.

That he was special.

"Come on, tell me then. What happened in this dream?" she asked interestedly, absent mindedly pulling out a deck of tarot cards as he began reciting his dream, the remembrance very painful to the 5 year old. But he couldn't run away from it, not this time. He had to face it and conquer it, just like Mana.

Even if it meant diving back into the world of his utmost fears.

_Author's Note: Thank you all who reviewed and very much so for my beta-reader's work. I don't mind any changes you made/make, it is openly accepted. I must've gotten like…9 reviews last chapter alone. I'm deeply appreciate all the complements I've received for that chapter, seeing as how I had to rewrite the dream sequence._

_I hope this next statement doesn't upset anyone. I __**might**__ have to pause in the story for a brief moment. Just a week, I swear (please don't hurt me!). That is to say if it happens at all. I did say might, and if it happens, I would only be skipping one update. I promise you, that that's all it'll be. If it does happen, I promise to do a longer chapter pertaining to Allen's dream. But nonetheless, that's what the next chapter will revolve around._

_So be on the lookout for the next chapter featuring Allen's dream._


	7. My Sweetest Nightmare

Ch. 6

'You felt the coldness in my eyes

And it's something I'm not revealing

Though you got used to my disguise

You can't shake this awful feeling

It's the me that I let you know

'Cause I'll never show I have reasons

I hate to say I told you so

But I told you so.'

-The Used: Blood On My Hands

_This dream, it had started out normal. Normal as any dream could be. The sky was a calm blue, the sun overhead bright and shining as it brought life to his happy little world. The green grass swayed with the wind and the shimmering lake just a few dozen feet completed the scene. All in all, it was picture perfect._

_Or so it may seem._

_Allen was currently playing ball with Tramp, laughing joyously as the dog managed to catch the ball yet again. Though that came as no surprise, the dog never failed to miss the ball once. He was having a wonderful time when he threw the ball a little too far and the ball landed in the lake. Nonetheless, Tramp tried catching the ball while he still had a chance but couldn't quite reach it in time before it plunged into the body of water._

_Yipping gleefully, the terrier ran forward, happily splashing into the water. Allen laughed as the dog swam out to the ball. Leaving the dog to his own business, Allen turned back before flopping down onto the grass. To pass the time, he idly watched the clouds roll on by, having not a care in the world. It was nice, just having to worry about that. But that didn't seem to last very long._

_As he stared up at the white clouds, he suddenly realized that he hadn't heard Tramp in quite some time. This was unusual, seeing as how the dog was an adept swimmer and champion ball catcher. In fact, he should've gotten the ball by now. So what was taking the dog so long? And also, it was kind of strange that the splashing that had once been there before had suddenly been silenced._

_Sitting up, Allen took note of how the wind suddenly picked up, blowing harshly against his body as he got to his feet. Looking back, he found the lake empty. And to his horror, Tramp was nowhere to be found. "Tramp?" he called out, hands cupping over his mouth as he called the dog's name, pathetically whistling soon after when that didn't seem to work. _

_Trotting forward, he realized that the sky had suddenly darkened and the clouds appeared to be heavy with incoming rain. It certainly didn't appear as happy as it had before._

_In fact, it wasn't happy at all._

_Slowly making his way over to the surface of the lake, he ignored the fact that the wind was howling at this point in favor of making it to the lake. Despite the fact that it appeared to have nothing in it, it still had this single rippling effect going on, belonging to something in the water. _

_The closer he got to the surface, the more anxious he began to feel. He knew he was looking for something that wasn't Tramp but couldn't quite figure out exactly what it was to begin with. Something was pulling him to the water's edge and before he knew it, he was standing on his hands and knees before it. Unable to draw his gaze away from his reflection, all thoughts of the missing dog slipped away as he bent down closer to the murky surface._

_Face nearly touching the water's surface, he suddenly realized that everything, even the wind, had just…stopped. Everything seemed to go in freeze frame, everything falling into the silence. It was startling but hardly noticeable when his reflection slowly morphed into something that wasn't quite himself. In fact, it didn't look like himself at all. It looked like a shadow, eyes of hallowed out white and a perpetual smile of twisted insanity the only features on its featureless face._

"_Allen…" gurgled the strange being, bubbles rising up from the strained voice. It came out as a whisper, reaching his ears faintly and would've otherwise gone unnoticeable if it weren't for the fact that there was no other form of noise to drown it out._

_Before he had time to address it or even react, a hand shot out of the water, grabbing the boy by the back of his head. Heart skipping a beat and jumping to his throat, he couldn't even find it in himself to scream as he was pulled into the water. _

_Cold water hit him like knives, sending shivers up and down his spine as he was sent plunging downward into the murky abyss. He couldn't see anything, his eyes blurred to no extreme from the thickness of the water. His chest was on fire, clenching from panic as his lungs filled with the water that continued flowing into his foaming mouth and down his throat. No matter how much he fought and how much he thrashed, he could not free himself from his watery prison._

_And no matter how much he wanted it otherwise, he couldn't stop himself from being pulled downward._

_Groping his throat as his eyes fell shut, he fought for the air he could not get. His movements became more violent, his body twisting and turning as he continued to be dragged down. He thought his lungs were going to burst any minute, his throat scratchy and ablaze. But just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, he found himself suddenly laying on his back, the intense feeling his body had been feeling before now gone, his lungs free of the water that had once been there before. Soon to be replaced with confusion._

_His mind was reeling with what had happened, his thoughts unable to comprehend what he had just experienced. He couldn't stop himself asking several questions, still reeling from the experience despite the fact that it didn't seem to have happened at all. After all, his clothes and hair were dry, his throat and chest clear of the water that had once been there before. So, had it really happened, at all?_

_Had it been just a dream? Was it all just his imagination? Had any of it been real? It was hard to decide, hard to decipher what had been real and what had not. The rapid beating of his heart still pumping the adrenaline through his body seem to prove that what had appeared to have happened had actually happened. But it still didn't explain why he was dry when he should've been sopping wet. Maybe it was just nothing but a dream. A rather random and mind blowing dream._

_He'd like to reassure himself of that, but it wasn't coming out all that easy._

_He had forgotten about the shadow man in light of this strange occurrence. Whether that was a good or bad thing had yet to be seen though. _

_Hesitantly getting to his feet, Allen stared wide eyed up at the sky, the sky an eerie sunset color of doom, a great contrast to what it had been earlier. Not at all the calming colors associated with a peaceful transition of day to night. But this, what greeted him, was not all that peaceful to begin with. The skies were a hellish red, oozing with a grimacing purple and a fiery orange that all practically screamed out in anger. _

_The ground he now stood on was wilted and dead, losing all the lush green color it had once had. It showed nothing but bleak despair in this strange place where there was no wind. His eyes stung from a grey haze that was continuously floating on past him, bringing tears to his eyes as he continued surveying the area around him. _

_He found himself standing on a hill covered sporadically with patches of dead grass, the other parts of the ground covered in soot and dirt. The smell of smoke and screams reached his senses before he understood what was going on. He turned around, his head turning this way and that as his body forced him to step forward despite the fact that he was very reluctant to do so. The smoke and screams were proving to be his deciding factor to this decision. But yet, something was pulling him forward, drawing him near in a similar fashion as he had been when he had been suddenly drawn to the edge of the lake._

_And like the lake, he was left standing on the edge, his eyes left gazing at a frightful and rather disturbing scene. His eyes went wide with surprise and fear despite the fact that his eyes were still stinging, his mouth falling open slightly as a silent gasp lay trapped in his throat. What he saw was no dream, oh no. _

_It was the beginnings of one of his worst nightmares._

_Fire had been set to the circus camp, the roaring blaze spreading atop all of the tents, animal cages, and even people, spreading onto anything it could touch. People screamed in fear and pain, seeking to escape the fiery clutches of the red flames, while others flailed around in an attempt to extinguish the flames that had begun spreading across their bodies. Their screams were chilling, their cries making his blood run cold. It was all becoming too much and this was only just a portion of what he was allowing himself to take in. If he took in anymore of this dreadful scene, he would just lose it._

_The howls of fear sent shivers down his spine, tears coming to his eyes as he watched, unable to do otherwise. He was forced to watch this, not knowing what to do to help. It wasn't like he could leave or go down there where he would only get in the way. So he was subjected to just watching it all unfold, his hands clenching and unclenching as he watched. He wanted, no needed, to do something. But wasn't able to think up anything he could do. So far, nothing had prompted him to leave his spot on the dead hill. _

_At least, not yet._

_He tried closing his eyes a couple of times, hoping that that would stop him from seeing all their burning bodies, the flesh on their faces easily being charred away. But it did little to reconcile the fact that there were still people out there being burned alive, and nothing could prevent him from seeing their burning faces. He could still see their pain whether he had his eyes opened or not. So he was subjected to watching it all, nothing saving him from the horrendous image. _

"_Beautiful, isn't it?" asked a voice from beside the boy, the voice and sudden hand resting on his shoulder startling him nearly out of his skin. Yelping from surprise, he looked to his side to find himself staring at a man that looked an awful lot like his father, but somewhat different._

_I guess the big factors would have to be the funny colored skin and strange symbols etched across the man's forehead, his appearance more youthful than Mana's. His eyes, from what he could tell from the angle he was at, were gold, lit up by the distant glow of the destructive fire. The man who looked like his father hadn't seemed to notice that he was being stared at, instead, taking a deep breath in before sighing in contentment, his eyes falling shut soon after. _

_Allen wanted to move away from the strange man, but the grip he had on his shoulder seemed to prevent him at the moment, his grip involuntarily tightening when he tried to shy away. This attempt to move away caused the strange man to open his eyes wearily, his haunting gaze shifting over to his smaller companion. "What do you think, boy?"_

"_What?" he squeaked, slightly cringing at the penetrating stare he was getting from the stranger. He could not escape the haunted look of the man's eyes, the gold pools threatening to swallow him whole. _

"_What do you think about all this? Don't you think all this carnage is beautiful?" he asked innocently, a smile perking up his lips at the horrorstruck look he got from the boy._

"_No!" replied Allen adamantly while he fought the stranger's hold, eventually pulling away when he suddenly let go. Backing away, he fought for composure as he cried, "Those are all my friends down there! They're dying, and you don't seem to care!" A strange hint of maturity could be found in his voice as he voiced his outrage, his eyes flashing in anger and fear. _

"_Why should I? I could care less, boy. But watching it does get my blood pumping though." Replied the man casually, smirking at the glare he was receiving from Allen. Stuffing his gloved hands into his pockets, he gave a light snicker as he began circling the boy, as if he was a cornered prey. "All of this, this death and fear and pain, is something you cannot hide from. You will be exposed to it, no matter how hard you try to shield yourself from it. It will keep coming at you and at you until you stumble and break. You know why?" He paused in speech to see if he would. But he didn't, like he figured. "Because I am your shadow. Wherever you go, I will follow. And everywhere you go, only death and despair will greet you. Because I am your shadow, and you can't get rid of me ."_

_Continuously circling the boy, the stranger couldn't stop himself from giddily smirking at the wave of expressions that flooded the boy's face as his head twisted and turned to follow his every movement. He just loved seeing the pain that was on his face, his resolve shattering. He just couldn't wait to see the boy break. _

_Still pacing, he came to a stop in front of the shaking boy, his malicious eyes smiling in delight as he looked down at the boy. "Such is the fate of one who has been born with the blood of Noah in his veins and the mark of Innocence a part of his body. I almost feel sorry for you, but just almost." Chuckled the figure, pausing to swallow in the boy's fear and pain, confliction heavy in his eyes._

_Smirking some more, he went back to pacing, a new air around him as he did so. Though it hardly covered the malicious aura he had about him. "But you'll grow to get use to it in time, like me and those before you. Hmm, with all that I've said, there still seems like I'm leaving something out. Hmm…now what was it again? Oh yeah, I remember now."_

_Allen suddenly sensed a shadow looming over him from behind as the strange man came to yet another halt in his pacing. "I think there's something missing in this whole image, don't you?" He paused as he awaited for the boy to answer. When he did not, he leaned forward, his mouth just inches away from the boy's ear. His voice came out as a whisper as he said, "I'll give you hint. It has something to do with a clown."_

_Though he couldn't see it, he knew the boy's eyes had widened to saucers, his entire frame stiffening from the mere mention of the word 'clown'. He knew automatically who the stranger was talking about and a wave of guilt hit him. After all this time, he had not stopped once to think about his father, too caught up with what was happening at the moment to think about Mana. Out of sight, out of mind, right?_

"_Mana…" he whispered wispily, his hands clenching into fists for a moment before he shot forward, pushing all of his fear and cowardice aside in favor of finding the man before it was too late. _

_Unless it had already been too late._

_The strange man gave a satisfied grin as he watched Allen run off towards the blazing circus campsite. For now, he would amuse the boy and allow him to find the clown before returning. After all, it would be fun to watch the boy's face when he reached the end of his search. If this all hadn't broke him, then what he would find at the end surely would. In fact, he was certain of it._

_Straightening himself, he fought not to laugh in pleasure, reminding himself that there would be plenty of time for that later. But he just couldn't help it, he was feeling so ecstatic, so alive at the moment. He just had to laugh. _

_Once he got it out of his system, at least some of it, he stepped back, his form wavering before he faded into the smoke, disappearing into the background as Allen went to look for Mana._

_**DGMDGMDGM**_

_Down near the grounds was a lot worse than it was where he was on the hill overlooking the scene. Here, he saw it all up close. And it wasn't pretty, at all. People were too busy running around to notice him, their troubles too caught up with themselves at the moment. Allen couldn't blame them. If he were in their shoes, he would be doing the same thing. _

_Though their cries still continued to shake him to the bone._

_Shrugging back the fear and convincing himself just enough to move forward, he continued his search, hoping to find Mana before it was too late. The cries of the injured mingled together with a platonic melody of twisted cacophony, the music haunting and menacing. It's intervals were erratic and chaotic, rising and fading into the background randomly. He tried to pay no mind to it, but that was kind of hard when the melodramatic music spiked unexpectedly. Though it did help to think of Mana._

_With that in mind, he pushed himself to go faster, faster than he would've usually done. But Mana's life was possibly on the line, there was no time to worry about himself. All that mattered was Mana at the moment, he had to stay focused. But considering how things were going, that was extremely hard to do. What with his friends being burnt alive and all. _

_The closer he made it to their tent, the more carnage he was greeted with. The bodies of his most cherish friends covered the grounds, their blood soaking the earth, and the fire grew fiercer. A most startling and gut wrenching scene he came across while on his insane quest in search of Mana was that of a galloping zebra, it's shrill cries filling the air as it ran like crazy while most of its posterior was set ablaze, the flesh so burnt that you could see the bone. It's mane was spotted with flame, the right side of its elongated face twisted and distorted. And yet it continued to gallop like one of the horses from the four horsemen of the apocalypse. It was just frightening. _

_Simple as that._

_There were more frightening scenes than that that just stuck to him more so. A couple times he had to stop and vomit, the stench of burnt flesh and smoke nauseating and the continuous screams doing a number on his nerves. Everything about this made his stomach turn and his head swim, and he wished for nothing more than for it to be over. Was that so much to ask?_

_Retching for a third time in less than 5 minutes, he forced himself forward, already seeing the front of their tent coming closer with each footstep he took. Anticipation blossomed as realization began to set in. He knew that this was the best place to look for Mana, but it didn't necessarily guaranteed that he was even there. All he could do was hope._

_Pushing his way through the tent flap, he stumbled inside the tent, only to find he was entering a whole new world. He now stood on a cobbled brick road, the path going on and on until ending at a body of water. A white moon stood over head, casting down white light into this black and white world. Skeletons of trees boarded the stone, intermingling with various sized crosses. _

_His breath came in quick bursts, mist rising with each exhale he took, disappearing soon after with the accompanying inhale. His head was still reeling, dizzy and spinning out of control. His body was borderline exhausted and his left arm ached and itched for some unknown reason. He wanted to pass out and just rest, but he still had to find Mana. Only then could he rest. _

_Nonetheless, he still pressed forward, running once more in search of Mana and not really caring where this would lead him. He knew he just had to find him. It was that plain and simple. _

_Fighting to remain standing as he continued running, chest feeling as if it was on fire, he thought he would never find his father at this rate, the thought summoning tears. But then he found the back of someone in the distance, his heart leaping to his throat when he realized that it was Mana. Smiling, he quickly wiped away the tears that had managed to slide down his face before he began running one last time._

_It didn't take long to make it to the man, though when he did come to a stop just behind him, his entire body was trembling. The ache and itch in his left arm intensified as he made it to his father, causing him to subconsciously cradle it to his chest, as he fought for his breath. Hiccupping occasionally, he outstretched a trembling hand, preparing to grab the clown's attention when he was suddenly interrupted._

"_I see you've managed to find him. Too bad it's all been in vain." Said the stranger, the very same guy from earlier. Allen's anger flared at his return. He had thought he had been rid of him._

_The man stepped forward, grasping Allen's hand tightly before pulling him aside, making his way over to Mana. Allen fell back from the force, black and red spots flashing in his vision when his head kissed the ground. Momentarily dazed, he fought to regain equilibrium as the stranger made his way closer to his father. Anger blazed even fiercer when the man stood in front of Mana, a terrible smirk coming on his face as he murmured something to him. Mana gave a couple of curt nods in understanding, the conversation lasting for only a minute or two before he turned around, finally facing him._

_Sitting up, a smile came upon Allen's face when he found Mana safe. More tears poured out of his eyes, streaming down his face as he beamed up at his father. But he didn't get any form or sign of affection back. Instead, he got a ruthless stare, no smile perking up his lips, only a frown. His stern gaze was intense, his pale blue eyes not leaving his as his smile slipped away, his eyebrows knitting together as he hesitantly got to his feet._

"_Mana?" he whispered tentatively, slowly making his way over to his father when he was suddenly knocked off his feet once more. And this time by his own father._

_Head hitting the stone once again, this drew blood, his temple now sporting a shallow graze. Mindlessly biting his lower lip as he scrunched his eyes shut, he tried ignoring the pain but his body suddenly ached with more wounds, his left arm violently shaking at this point. _

_Sitting up, Allen could feel hot blood slide down his left eye from a wound he did not remember receiving. His cheek felt swollen, his body bruised and bleeding. He couldn't remember how he had gotten all these wounds, having only been knocked to the ground twice. He shouldn't be this badly hurt from this, should he?_

_He shook away such thoughts as he got to his feet again, almost hitching forward when he felt the sudden rush of sticky blood trail down his front, prompting him to lift up his shirt. He found four gruesome and rather deep slashes across his front, a fifth grazing his right shoulder. He had to suppress the urge to vomit right then and there. But at this point, his stomach was empty, nothing left to vomit except excess bile._

_His body howled in pain, an unnecessary weight dragging the left side of his body down. But he ignored it for now, his teary gaze fixate on Mana as he glared at him. "You're not Allen." He seethed, his teeth and hands clenched as he began walking away, leaving Allen alone to panic, this entire time, thinking of his words. How could he not be Allen, he knew that that was his name and who he was. He was Allen Walker, son of Mana Walker…right?_

"_Mana, don't leave me…" Allen moaned as he stumbled forward, the weight dragging down his left side, not cooperating as well as he would like._

_Gnawing on his bottom lip, he ignored the sharp taste of copper as he stumbled on, trying to follow his father. But the closer he got, the more intense his left arm felt, and at the spike of pain, he thought to look at it, surprised with what he found. _

_His entire arm had elongated, now plated with silver chrome metal, five clawed digits shaped like hooks, jagged and menacing as they curled. Red stained the tips, explaining the five slashes he had on his front. A red cross was plastered where his normal jade cross should've been. It twitched in anxiousness, the claws flexing as it involuntarily lunged forward, heading straight for Mana._

_Upon realizing this, Allen's eyes went even wider, his feet digging into the cobbled stone as he fought to control it. But no matter how much he tried, it fought, and eventually won. Gripping Mana tightly, it squeezed the man tight, Allen unable to draw his eyes away as his body continued to act on its own. His heart was pounding a mile a minute, panic rising once more as he listened to the stomach churning crunch of snapping bones._

_Mana watched uninterestedly, not even flinching at the feel of his own bones snapping. His gazed stayed on Allen, blood gushing out of his mouth, ears and eyes, the sight gruesome. At one point, one of his eyes popped out, dangling out his socket as he watched Allen sob. More blood streaked his once unmarred face, creating a red star on his forehead, his name being neatly scrawled on his brow. Some of the skin broke and peeled away, reveling the metal interior of a skeleton underneath. _

_Despite it all though, he wasn't even screaming._

_There was so much blood, too much for Allen's young eyes to see. And he hated it._

_He was too busy listening to the crunches that he didn't realize he was screaming until it had finished and Mana's body had exploded into a pile of dust. Bawling, he fell to the floor in a heap, his strength ebbing away with the amount of blood he was losing. Hugging himself, he ignored his monstrous thing of an arm as he rocked back and forth, unable to stop crying. He had just killed his father, and now he wanted to die. _

"_Hurts doesn't it? Don't worry, it'll get easier. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, Mana didn't love you." Said the stranger soothingly, his hand falling onto the boy's shoulder. The mere touch set the boy off, his left arm swinging madly as he pounced on the stranger, his eyes harboring a wildness that hadn't been there before. _

_He could tell that Allen was falling apart._

_The stranger chuckled as he held the boy back, amazed by the amount of strength he had suddenly displayed for someone who was only 5 years old. "Yes, let all that anger and frustration out. Let your hatred and despair fuel your rage." Instructed the man as Allen snapped and growled at him, his actions becoming more and more unstable by the second. It only intensified with the mention of Mana._

"_That's right, Mana never loved you, oh no. He loved someone else, someone much more precious to him. You, you were just a burden. Something he had to take care of despite the fact that it pained him to do so." Taunted the strange man as he kicked Allen off, the boy baring his teeth as he leaped at him again, only to have the man move out of the way in time. _

_Rolling on the floor, he fought to get back up, but found himself too tired and too weak to do so, his energy spent. Sinking to the ground, back on his side like a wounded dog, he laid out his left arm as it twitched and just lied there. Breathing rather heavily, sheen of sweat coated his skin as he waited for the man to speak again._

_The sharp feel of a leather soled shoe digging into the side of his head alerted him that he had returned, and there was nothing he could do to fight it. He was going to just give up and die. Then, maybe then, he could be with the Mana that loved and cared for him like before. Not the man the stranger was referring to. "Want to know something really freaky kid? Want to know why he didn't love you? Because you weren't him…" he growled as he dug his foot in deeper before drawing it back, instead, giving him a few sharp kicks here and there. The subtle crack of a rib breaking brought him satisfaction. _

_Drawing his foot up over Allen's neck, he had it hover there as he said one finally thing. "You weren't me." Slamming his foot down, a broad smirk quirked on his face at the sharp and unmistakable sound of his neck snapping, satisfaction filling him. He watched as the boy's wild eyes lost the light of life instantly, unable to stop himself laughing hysterically. He felt like a kid who had just been brought to the candy store._

_The high pitched and insane laughter was the last thing the child had heard before he had been woken up._

* * *

_Author's Note: Let me tell you, this must have been the hardest chapter I've had to write for this story so far, and most of the chapters have been quite a challenge. I had to rewrite this several times, change certain parts and remove some all together. This was going to start out entirely different, so different that it was kind of bizarre and a little too soon for its introduction. And I had nothing to really connect it with with what I've hinted. I don't really know if I'll further it or even use it but if I don't, I'll surely let you know what it was. But for now, that shall be stored for another time._

_I hope this was ok, I was going to make this longer, but once it made it to 5,000+ words, I decided to stop. Which was probably a good idea. Um…I hope this was interesting and creepy. I actually tried this time, unlike with Mana's, and I don't know if I made it so. It'd be nice to leave a review telling me what you think, what could be improved. Till next time. _


	8. In Between

Ch. 7

'_Why can't they understand _

_the way we feel_

_They just don't trust_

_what they can't explain_

_I know we're different but,_

_deep inside us_

_We're not that different at all.'_

_-Phil Collins: You'll be in my Heart_

Alina couldn't help but gape at what the cards were telling her. Throughout the boy's entire retelling, she had looked to the tarot cards for answers. What she found wasn't all that pleasing and could've meant a number of things. But it still didn't change the fact that the boy's past, present, and future, were going to be the key to something much greater. And it also didn't help that his nightmare had left her utterly stunned, past speechlessness.

Though right now, her attention was more focused on the cards than his words. But the words just seemed to make the cards that much clearer.

Seven cards laid spread out before her, taking on the form of a disfigured horseshoe. In Allen's reading, it held the cards known as the Magician, Strength, the Fool, the Hanged Man, Death, the Tower, and the World.

The Magician. A card signifying full potential. It showed that inside Allen slept great potential. But it was left unknown on whether or not it was of malicious intent or not. A change will begin. Extraordinary choices and decisions must be made in the future, things that will determine the outcome of events. Guidance will be sought from that who is dead.

Strength. A card signifying a struggle. A major struggle will ensue, pulling forth an inner turmoil. Compassion flows through him, giving him the skills he needs to save all forms of life, be it living or dead. He has the will to persevere, even in the toughest of trials, a key member of a hidden resistance. Kindness exudes from his presence, giving all those around hope and reassurance despite the shadow that hangs over his head.

The Fool. An unquestionable hero in light of all that is to happen to him. A journey lays ahead, one of high magnitude that will be physical, spiritual, and emotional. Great feats will come from him despite being one as young as him. Those who know him will seek his warmth, his strength. His power. But mistakes will be made, one that may become very costly in the long run.

The Hanged Man. Something will cause him to let go. It is unclear of what it is exactly, all though it is something that will be accepted. In the long run, acceptance will be achieved. It will be difficult, and a challenge that he will not want to face, but cannot avoid. The shadow that hangs over his head will lead him to contemplation, which will lead him to question his power and future.

Death. Sadness will wave across others because of his absence. He will be missing, lost from the world for a moment. It will be a heavy loss, despite the duration. A transition will occur that will change him, for better and for worse. A very deep and sudden change that can't be avoided. It is inescapable.

The Tower. Chaos. Both internal and external. An uncomfortable experience that will corrupt him if he does not face it. He will lose control, his strength and cunning will waver. Internal balance will be disrupted. Unless it has already begun.

The World. He will change it. How so is still unclear. He has the power to make or break the cycle of Life. His power will be unleashed, and an era will give way to another.

He is the hero and the villain.

The sound of the child crying snapped her out of her transfixed state, reeling her back into the world. Shaking as if out of a reverie, her eyes suddenly focused on the boy that had crumbled to the floor, his small frame shaking furiously. His eyes were clamped shut, his body still shaking as his fingers began pressing nervously into his hands. Kneading them back and forth, he was oblivious of the fact that he was digging his finger nails into the thin flesh, drawing blood.

Alina rose after that, rushing down to the boy's side and pulling his hands hastily apart. She tried not to shiver from the feel of hot blood trickling down onto her cold fingers. He didn't fight her hold, instead, digging his fingers into her own skin, his nails piercing as they pressed down hard on her soft skin.

Biting back a gasp of pain, she pulled him to her, moving her arms as much as she could while allowing him to release his built up frustration by hurting her instead of himself. She cringed every so often when he pressed harder, the nails digging deeper into the already tender skin. But she did not pull back, not once.

As he continued to release the frustration that he could not voice outside of tears, he slowly came to a stop, his mind finally comprehending that he had been hurting her instead of himself. He pulled back slowly as he paused in his crying, his tired and blood shot eyes falling to his and her marred hands, gagging at the sight.

His gaze slowly lifted up towards her face, only to have his eyes widen at what he saw. Instead of the lively Alina he had assumed he would be looking at, he was staring at a charred version of her, her skin blackened and wrinkly beyond recognition. Her eyes were sunken deep into their sockets, a white film glazing over her eyes as they stared at him blankly. Her mouth moved, but words would not come.

Allen couldn't stop himself from screaming.

Pushing away from her violently, he fought to escape, to get as far away as he could, but his body had turned to jell-o, his entire body too drained to get very far. Stumbling forward, he couldn't keep what little he had in his stomach, the trauma and the heavy aroma finally getting to him. Landing flat on his hands and knees, he released whatever was in his stomach to the floor, causing tremors to rack his body.

Coughing and gagging, he forced himself to remain oblivious as Alina inched her way closer, his mind desperately seeking a place he could escape to, seeing as how his body wouldn't let him move at this point. Placing a gentle hand a top the boy's arching back, the gypsy frowned sorrowfully when the boy flinched, unable to see what he saw, but knowing that it was traumatizing him. Whatever had happened must have correlated with the nightmare. That was all she could deduce from the way he was acting.

She continued to rub his back softly, unable to hide the deep sorrow she felt for the small boy. This…this was just the beginning. Nothing would be simple or carefree for the little clown again, his destiny was too complex for that. He was such a sad being, one that didn't deserve the hand that fate had dealt him. His life would never be the same, not ever.

He treaded on the fine line between sinful damnation and moral redemption.

Only when he had finally finished vomiting did he look up, his features hastily relaxing for some unknown reason when his eyes fell to her. The tears returned once more, streaming down from his dull eyes. Tears prickled her own eyes as she pulled the child into her arms, cradling him as she hummed a light tune and hoping that he had worn himself out enough to fall into a dreamless sleep.

**DGMDGMDGM**

"What a crowd that was, huh Tramp?" asked the Clown, earning a joyous bark from his fellow companion and performance partner. Laughing softly at how the dog continued to wag its stump for a tail furiously, he pushed his way back into his tent, not expecting to find what he did.

Alina was sitting beside an unconscious Allen, a cloth dipped in cold water placed upon his feverish forehead. The boy's shirt had been removed, tossed to the side as she went about diligently bandaging his hands along with changing the one's that had already been there. Bandages could be seen already wrapped around her own hands. She stopped though when she realized that she was not alone, turning to see a frightened and angered Mana standing at the entrance of the tent.

"What happened?" he asked through clenched teeth, slightly frightening himself by the amount of anger that seemed to flow into his words. The Romanian gypsy didn't seem all that startled by his reaction, simply going back to her bandaging as she said, "He's under a lot of stress. The nightmare he had seemed to have shaken him more so than what he had originally let on."

Mana ran a hand down the side of his face, letting out a tired sigh as he made his way over to her. Sitting on his own cot, he sat opposite of her as he leaned forward slightly, earnest in his features. "Please, can you tell me what happened?"

"I don't think it's my right to tell you—"

"Please, I have to know."

Alina paused, taking a moment to gauge his earnestness before answering, "Alright, but don't let him know that I told you." He nodded his throat suddenly dry as he waited for her to begin. With a tired sigh she began her recounting of what he had told her and what had happened afterwards.

She started with the nightmare, going about it in such detail that Mana quickly felt nauseated, his head swimming the more he listened. The more he heard, the more he began to regret he ever asked. It was just too much to listen to, too painful to ever fully be acknowledged, or even accepted. But he had asked for it, and he had to accept that.

Though he himself couldn't see it, he knew that a wide range of emotions must be passing through his face, changing so fast that not all of them could possibly be noticed. His heart felt heavy and every so often his chest tightened, anxiety and panic rising with each word that came out of the gypsy's mouth. Each word made him that the more determined to help the boy, his son, in whatever way possible.

Though he couldn't help thinking about how odd it was that they had both had a dream where his brother, Allen's real father, had been in it. Could the dreams be linked? Impossible.

Or was it?

When the Romanian woman had finished, Mana brought a hand to his face, suddenly feeling very exhausted and worn out. Like a windup toy starting to lose its momentum. "Oh God…" he muttered darkly, cringing into his hand when a mental image of the shadow man and his insane grin came to mind.

He wasn't sure how Allen had lasted that long, but he was pretty amazed that he had. But now he couldn't deny the guilt that had already been present earlier, when the boy had refused to tell him what was wrong. Now that he knew, he wasn't upset that the boy had refused to tell him. If he had been in Allen's shoes, he would've reacted the same way, maybe even worse. Nonetheless though, like any parent, he still felt wicked guilt for what he had unintentional put the boy through.

If only he had stayed, and waited by the boy's side, then maybe none of this would've happened. At least not until the boy had another horrific dream that rivaled the caliber of this one. Would he have cracked then and poured out his troubled to the Clown, or would he simply try to hide it again? Mana wasn't sure, but he had a strong feeling that if he had another nightmare, he would indeed try to hide it behind closed doors, attempting to deal with the trauma by himself.

He was steadily growing to be the type of person who kept all their personal problems to themselves while worrying about everyone else.

Mana was like that.

"Mana…"

The sound of the feminine voice pulled him out of his torrent of thoughts, his hand slipping away from his face as he regarded her with tired eyes. He had been vaguely aware that she had been talking this entire time, only now did he actually comprehend her words.

"Huh?" he moaned, the only sound he could make at the moment. He still needed time to recover his voice.

"Have you been listening to anything I've just said?" she asked, a hint of annoyance flickering in her soft eyes. He shook his head, knowing that she meant after the vivid description of the boy's nightmare because, rest assured, he had heard all of _that._ "I'm sorry." He muttered softly, his tired eyes shifting up to her face as he sat up.

"It's alright. I was saying that…I think Allen's…different. He's not normal." She replied slowly, trying to stay cautious and prepared for however the Clown would react. Though she really wasn't prepared for the amount of wild, hot anger that flared in his usually calm eyes.

"Of course Allen's normal! Sure, he might not wholly look it, but he's just as normal as you and me. There's nothing wrong with my son!" he bellowed as he got to his feet, feeling strongly defensive for his own son's sake. How dare she talk about his child like that!

Alina flinched harshly before she jumped to her feet as well, struggling to appease him. "Please Mana, don't take my words the wrong way. I meant…I meant he's special. H-He's different, somehow…" She was struggling to find the right words to express that he could easily understand, but it just made him even angrier. And for once he actually glared at her.

"He's human, that's what he is. He talks, just like you and me. He breathes, just like you and me. And he bleeds, just like you and me!" he yelled, blinded by rage as he paced away from her to sit beside his sleeping son, gently running a hand down the boy's soft cheek in an attempt to calm down.

"Mana please, you're getting yourself upset over this—"

"Yeah, well wouldn't you be if you had someone telling you that your own child was not normal."

"You're not listening to me, at all!" she cried, finally allowing her building frustration to get the better of her. "Look, how can I make you understand? He's not a normal 5 year old boy, he's special."

As Mana continued to stroke the sleeping boy's cheek, he stopped when an image of the shadow man flickered across his mind for some strange and unknown reason. "I told you already, my son is normal." He mumbled, the anger simmering out for the moment. Though there was still a cold edge to his voice.

"No normal boy has an arm like his—" she said until she was suddenly cut off by a harsh whisper.

"Get out." He said coldly, unable to stand this any longer. He wasn't going to let her tell him that there was something different about him, something that was off. He already knew that himself, he didn't need to be told twice.

"What?" she asked, hoping she hadn't heard him right. But to her chagrin, she had.

"I said get the bloody hell out of my tent!" he hollered, his voice echoing as he advanced to her with a threatening air around him, causing the gypsy to shrink back with every step he took. Once she was out, he blocked the entrance with his body, eyes focused intently on her as he waited for her to leave.

Gritting her teeth, she said one last thing before turning, "You're a fool, Mana Walker, a fool who can't see the truth. You're just too damn stubborn to see that it's right in front of you. You'll regret not hearing out what I've got to say!" And with that, she left to go back to her tent, not even looking over her shoulder once.

Sighing, the Clown turned back into the tent, idly pulling out a handkerchief as he wiped his face of the make-up that covered the surface of his most likely flushed skin. He didn't really care that he would have to put it back on again later, it was all he could do to keep himself from punching something out of frustration. Or better yet, screaming.

It was the only thing that he could do to keep himself distracted long enough to cool off. And when he did, he couldn't help but feel ashamed for his actions. He had never snapped at anyone that way before, let alone slip out such harsh and vulgar language, not even to Cosimo. It was like this animal had been released, and he had been hard pressed to contain it. And most of it had been, but not quite all of it. If she hadn't been a woman, he had seriously considered hitting her.

The thought had fleeted across his mind briefly, lingering just long enough to make him feel even more ashamed of himself. He knew better than to blow up into someone's face. It's just, when it came to Allen, nothing could stop him from protecting him with all his might. Even if it meant yelling at some people now and again. He would do anything for the boy, anything to keep him safe.

Even if he had to dish out even more lies.

Sitting down beside his still unconscious son, he let out a long, heavy sigh as Tramp finally crept out from his hiding place under Mana's bed. When the Clown had started raising his voice, the dog had instantly sought shelter under his owner's bed, as an attempt to hide from the man's spontaneous and rather uncharacteristic rage.

Whimpering slightly, the terrier rubbed up against the Clown's leg before sinking down, his head resting atop his paws. Mana gave the dog a brief scratch behind the ear when he suddenly noticed his son beginning to stir. Cautiously perking up, he watched with baited breath as the child's eyes fluttered open slowly, already adding to the growing suspense.

Allen slowly sat up once his silver eyes opened, shrugging off the wet cloth that was still on his head and looking to his bare torso in question. "What happened?" he asked, his voice slightly slurred as he looked up at Mana in expectance. His eyes, they were slightly glazed and distance, as if he was suppressing what had happened. To only further his assumption, the boy said, "What time is it? Did I sleep late?"

Mana wasn't sure how to approach this, seeing as how the boy didn't seem to have a clue on what was going on, or even what happened. The Clown couldn't help feeling relieved for that. The boy definitely didn't need that hanging over his head. Mustering up a guilty expression, he said, "Sorry, I figured you could use the sleep and I really didn't want to wake you. It's about noon."

"Oh…well, can I still have brek'fas?" he asked, hardly taking noticed of the bandages that covered his hands and left arm as he pushed himself out of bed, making his way over to where his clothes were stored.

"Sure, whatever you want. I'll go see if Bell can whip you up something fast." He assured, watching as the boy shrugged on a clean shirt, grabbing a grey vest as he went for trousers.

He watched the boy as he went about dressing, still feeling very drained by today's very stressful events. Not only had he lied to the boy by not mentioning what really happened, but now he had to deal with the pain of Allen's dream haunting him. He could only imagine the amount of fear the boy had been in, obviously enough to where it suppressed the nightmare and the events that followed out of his mind completely.

But he would deal with it. He'd deal with it just for the sake of his child. Anything for the boy he already thought of as his own.

* * *

_Author's Note: Guys, I am so sorry this took so long to update! (maybe not that long, but I missed the scheduled update) It's my fault really, none of the blame goes to you, __**Allen the Musician.**__ I've been down in the dumps lately cause of all that's been going on in my life (you know, the personal life stuff) and that was kind of, well, to put it simply, depressing me. But I'm getting over it. So no, it wasn't because of writer's block that this was delayed. Just, life's troubles. _

_I apologize for the quality and shortness of this chapter. I know this isn't top notched, and I know I need/can do better. Please, forgive me. I'm glad though, that you all loved the previous chapter. That's why I hope you aren't upset that this wasn't up to that chapter's scale. I let my depressed mind get the better of me (bad Howl, very bad) so there are instants where I kind of poured what I was feeling into the characters. Stuff that I couldn't express._

_But enough with the ranting! I'll try to make up for this somehow in the next chapter. Until next time, Howlingwolf94 _


	9. Captivating Music

Ch. 8

'_Things are changing_

_It seems strange and_

_I need to figure it out'_

_-Skillet: Say Goodbye_

As Mana rushed off for a last minute breakfast order, despite his overbearing reluctance, Allen was left alone to look around the tent he was already familiar with. Yep, that only proved to be interesting for about a split second. Well, interesting enough for a strange crumbled piece of paper inside a waste basket to appear far more appealing than staring at a makeshift wall.

Pushing off the edge of his bed, he stumbled over to the waste basket, his eyes never leaving the crumpled sheet of paper with the funny looking symbol on it. Reaching it, he hesitantly grabbed the piece of paper, as if his gloved hands would cause the simple sheet to crumble into dust or burst into flames. Whatever it was, the thought that it was important crossed the small boy's mind as he pulled it out of the basket.

Looking to it with piqued interest, Allen ever so slowly unraveled the piece of crumbled paper and began scanning its contents. What he found was something that he found to be inexplicitly beautiful, in its own cryptic way. The symbols flowed, creating some sort of story of some sorts. Or a song. Or maybe it was a little bit of both. Allen really wasn't sure, but he did now that this definitely looked more interesting to look at other than the normal surroundings of the tent.

Smiling softly, he plopped down to the earthy ground, crossed his legs, and placed the piece of paper in front of him. Staring down at the symbols, a far-off sense of nostalgia hitting him, he began staring at the strangely beautiful symbols so intensely that he might've bore a hole through the sheet if it were possible. Still smiling, he unknowingly began humming a strange tune while he grabbed a hold of Tramp's stick.

Digging the tip into the ground, he began tracing out the symbols to the ground slowly, trying to commit each to memory. The symbols, he didn't want to forget about them. One could say he was hardly bored now as he went about tracing the symbols into the earth, still humming the strange tune carefully. His tongue stuck out of the corner of his mouth as he went on to scribbling something that was a little more complex than lines and circles, his eyebrows knitting forward slightly.

He was starting to become so engrossed with what he was doing that the distant sound of footsteps approaching caused him to jump up slightly, paranoia washing over him as he got to his feet and tossed the stick away. A sense of foreboding washed over him as he stared down at his work, the feeling making him feel uncomfortable and dirty.

As if he was doing something wrong.

Biting his bottom lip softly, he turned at the sound of the approaching footsteps getting louder, leaving the little boy with only two options to choose from. Should he just leave the symbols there and let Mana ask what he was doing? Or should he just erase them, no one being the wiser? One thing was for certain though, he didn't want Mana to see. Something was telling him that these beautiful symbols could be something grossly dangerous. But part of him didn't want to destroy his hard work.

The sound of encroaching footsteps spiking his paranoia, Allen made a hasty decision and quickly ran his shoed foot across all the symbols he had traced, scuffing them up so that it looked like there had been nothing there but dirt. Scooping up the sheet of paper, he stuffed it inside the pocket of his trousers. Turning around to face the entrance of the tent, his smile broadened at the sight of Mana bearing food.

Already salivating as his stomach growled, he shot forward, jumping up and down once he made it to the Clown. Smacking his lips, he tried hard not to drool as he circled Mana while he went to set all the plates of piled on food he had brought. As soon as the Clown had set the plates down, the boy was quick to dive in, barely managing to grab a fork in time to scoop up the food.

Mana watched with amusement, always enjoying the fact that the boy was never shy when it came to food. Though one of these days he feared that he may choke, at the rate at which the small boy ate any small mountain of food. It the matter of minutes, the small boy managed to clean the three plates stuffed full of scrambled eggs, strips of bacon, links of sausages, and a handful of biscuits showered in gravy. No matter how many times he saw it, he could never get over the fact that Allen could eat so much in just a short amount of time and for one so small.

Allen gave a contented sigh as he looked up at Mana, flashing the Clown a smile, which he returned. Staking up the plates, he carried them over to Mana, and held them out expectantly. "T'ank you." He said as Mana took the plates away, placing them on his make-up table for now. Pulling out a handkerchief, Mana give it a steady lick before bringing it down to Allen's face, wiping away the smudges of food and grease that was on the boy's cheeks.

"You're welcome." He replied as Allen squirmed, trying to get away from the cloth and it's spit. Fidgeting and squirming, Allen couldn't escape having his face wiped, no matter how much he whined. "Mana…" he drawled, a heavy sigh following when he figured out his efforts were pretty much useless.

"Sorry kiddo, but you have to stay nice and clean." He replied, pulling back when he was sure he was done.

"But I like bein' dirty!" he protested, shuffling away from the Clown when he looked like he was going to make another go at the tormented boy. Staying out of reach, he stuck his tongue out to emphasize his statement.

"Now Allen, that's not very nice. I thought you wanted to be a gentleman?" Mana asked while folding his arms across his chest. Allen simple retorted, "I want to be a clown, like you!" To further his point, he did a cartwheel, to Mana's amazement.

"You can still be a gentleman and a clown at the same time." Pointed out Mana, watching as Allen looked to him confused, his head tilting slightly as his eyebrows knitted forward. "It's like this. When you're out in public, you have to act civil and well mannered, like a gentleman. But when you're at a place like here and with the people who really know who you are, then you can act loose and carefree, like a clown. It's what I do."

At his words, Allen immediately brightened up, the sour mood lifting as he beamed up at the Clown. "I wanna be just like you, Mana!" The Clown chuckled at the amount of enthusiasm that was in the child's voice. It was almost like the time…no, he wouldn't allow himself to think about it. The two were completely different people, not one in the same.

"You see, you can be both," Assured Mana, smiling further over the affection Allen was showing by giving his legs a tender hug, rubbing his face against the cloth at his thigh. "And I'm honored that you want to be like me, but I've got to hurry up and get ready. I've got another performance in about a half-hour."

Allen frowned as he pulled away, his shoulders sagging as he sighed. He looked so dejected, like a dog that had just been kicked by its master. "Would you like to come and watch?" threw out Mana, the boy perking up quickly. Nodding his head fiercely, his enthusiasm running high as he threw himself at Mana once more. This was going to be fun!

"Yep, yep, yep!" he chanted, forcing Mana to wrench the boy away from his legs when he wouldn't let go. Chuckling some more, he pushed the boy away gently, leaving his gloved hand atop the boy's head when he still tried to get to Mana, thanks still rolling off his tongue.

"Alright kiddo, I get it. Just promise you'll be a good boy and I'll see what I can do about getting you a good seat."

Allen ceased in his struggles to hug Mana, deflating slightly as he straightened himself. He bit his lower lip pensively, his eyebrows knitting forward slightly as if he was in deep contemplation. Confused, the Clown got down to the boy's level and gave his son a questioning look. "What's wrong?" he asked, trying to see if he could find the answer just by looking at his silver eyes.

"What if…what if people see _it_." He said slowly, subconsciously tugging on the glove that covered his left hand. Sighing, Mana gripped the boy by his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes as he said, "They won't see it Allen. They can't see it underneath the glove. People won't know that you're different."

He bit his lip further, about to say something else but decided against it, a smile coming onto his face as he nodded. "Ok." He replied, shrugging way the last thought as he backed away, spinning as he went on and on about how much fun it would be watching Mana perform.

Mana smiled as he rose, though in the back of his mind he sensed that Allen was still a little fearful of doing something alone while surrounded by many nameless strangers. And he also sensed the unease the boy felt when his left arm with brought up in such a manner. Allen had been a bit hesitant to answer, so that led the Clown to assume that there was something that was bothering him. But it was better not to press the boy while he clearly didn't want to talk about it, that was only made clear by the fake smile he had given him.

And how did he know this? Because the way it had come about wasn't how someone warranted a smile.

Besides, he didn't have plans to actually leave the boy all alone within a crowd of people who were mostly unpredictable and rambunctious. No, he had plans for someone to watch him, to keep him safe. And to make sure that nothing happened.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Klaud sat beside an antsy Allen, un-amusement written in her features as both her chattering monkey sitting on her lap and Allen chewed popcorn. She was the third and last person to take about the shift of watching Allen, the first having been Bell and the second Royal. And all the while, as she sat there waiting for the show to begin, she kept asking herself, '_How'd I get dragged into this?'_

I mean, true, the animal tamers never performed on the last day they were on site, due mainly because of fact that the animals didn't need both the stress of a performance and travel. So naturally, she was free, but it didn't mean she particularly wanted to sit here and watch a show she's seen a dozen times. And on that note, Allen had seen the performance many times too, but that never took away the enthusiasm he would have if it were something he hadn't seen before.

Maybe it was because it was something to do with Mana that the boy was so easily over-enthused. Or maybe it was because it was actually something entertaining other than having to watch from just outside the large tent. Either way, despite the voluminous times he's seen the simple and intricate act, he always acted as though it was something he had never seen in his entire life.

"Want some?" he asked her, gesturing out to the two bags of popcorn he had beside him. Though Lau Shimin grabbed a handful of the popped kernels in his tiny paws, Klaud gently refused, not one for popcorn.

Allen gave a simple shrug of his shoulders before stuffing his mouth with a handful, his eyes focused on the empty stage as more and more people came ushering in. This would be the last performance for this particular stop for the year, the troop having already planned to leave first thing in the morning. And because of this, more and more people were pushing and shoving just so that they could catch a glimpse of the act one last time.

The more people that came, the more Allen would start to subtly fidget, his hand slipping into the pocket of his trousers for a moment before withdrawing slightly, something white sticking out of his pocket as his fingers caressed the crinkled object. Curious, Klaud watched as he continued running his gloved thumb across the surface, his eyes still focused on the stage below. Lau Shimin was also watching, the monkey's eyes staring at the white thing before looking up at his master.

Looking to her companion, she gave him a simple look that sent him snatching at the mysterious object, quickly retrieving and handing it to her before Allen had much time to react. "Hey!" he cried out, snatching the mysterious piece of paper out of Klaud's hands before she had time to smooth the sheet out of its crinkles. "Tats mine." He said darkly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared at the young animal tamer.

Klaud's eyebrows knitted forward slightly at Allen's reaction, having never seen the boy act so…cold to someone before. As if sensing something wrong, the boy in question broke the gaze between them and looked down at his lap, shame coloring his cheeks. "Sowie." He mumbled, his hands tightening around the piece of paper as he said this.

"What is it?" she asked simply, not one much for apologies. He looked to his trousers for a moment before snatching a glance at the blonde teenager. Eyes shifting this way and that way when he went back to looking forward, he quickly muttered, "It's a secwet."

"What kind of secret?" she played along, trying to figure out what it was exactly that he wouldn't let her see. Though, she was thrown for a loop when the boy held out his pinkie to her, his cheeks flushing even more as he said, "Promise you won' tell anyone?" She looked at him for a moment, trying to read his expression before she locked her larger pinkie with his, snagging the two as she said, "Promise."

Pulling away, he let out a sigh before he began unraveling the crumpled piece of paper, anticipation growing with each second that passed. When she was finally able to see the contents of what she now realized was a piece of paper, she was not exactly sure what she was looking at. Or even why Allen was looking at it in such reverence that one could easily as it being some form of holy-grail. But all she saw was a crinkled sheet of paper scribbled with strange calligraphy that looked like just random lines and dots.

"Ain't it beautiful…" he mumbled wispily, his eyes focused on the paper that had his full, undivided attention. He was obviously seeing something that she didn't because she didn't think the sheet with the strange scribbles was beautiful at all. Nonetheless, she tried humoring the child.

"Uh-huh," she replied, staring at the symbols hard, trying to make heads or tails of it. But when she couldn't, she admitted defeat and gave up.

Sensing her un-amusement, he glared at her, his eyes becoming steely and cold for a second before he stuffed the piece of paper back in his pocket, shrugging away her hidden un-agreement. He didn't care what she thought. He knew it was beautiful and that was all that mattered to him. Besides, she had wanted to see it in the first place. Don't blame him if she wasn't impressed like he was.

Sighing, he watched as more and more people came filing in, his eyes scanning the crowd of various people. But the hairs on the back of his neck suddenly rose as his eyes fell upon a man that was staring at him back. Lau Shimin stiffened beside him, his gaze on the man that was staring their way as well. The hairs on his back bristled the longer the two stared at the man as he came slowly up the stands, his brown eyes not breaking their combined eye contact until he took a seat just a row down, sitting to their far right.

For some reason, that single man made him more uneasy than he already felt.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Royal exited his tent, a cigarette in his mouth as he looked up at the darken sky filled with its shades of ominous purple and deep pinks. Rubbing a scarred and calloused hand across the stubble at his chin, he made his way over to the various sized cages, his eyes falling upon the agitated animals. The tigers were roaring more so than usual, the two beasts pacing the inside of their cages anxiously, lunging at the steel bars every so often for otherwise unknown reasons.

The aged lion that was caged beside them was even up on his feet pacing, the elderly beast having become otherwise useless as of late due to its old age. Usually nothing other than food could coax it out of its cage, let alone stand. But whatever was causing the animals to act this way didn't spare him as he lightly growled, the sound gurgled more so than the other felines due age.

All of the animals were in fact restless, most of them hollering and screaming as they moved about their confining cages. Only the zebra tethered to a wagon was given some form of freedom, able to move about a couple of feet from the wagon it was tied to. Snorting and pawing the earth nervously, the striped horse's ears flattened and straightened as its head whipped this way and that, trying to break free of the tether around it's muzzle.

Going to the beast's side, his own companion of six years like Lau Shimin was Klaud's one, he soothingly ran a hand down it's hide, trying to calm the beast. "What's wrong, girl?" he asked, rubbing the striped horse's snout slowly while staring into one of her large, brown eyes. The animal tamer struggled to find the cause for the animals' behavior, but couldn't figure out the reason. The animals had never acted this agitated before.

Clearly, something wasn't right.

**DGMDGMDGM**

"Calm down Tramp." Muttered Mana as he sat beside the terrier, his eyes focused on his performance partner. He was never this agitated when it came close to a show, having never once just sat back on his haunches all quiet like he was now.

The dog's eyes were focused on the sliver of tarp that showed the entrance of the stage, his ears forward while a light, almost inaudible growl rolled from the dog's throat. The dog's body was seriously tense, not a single muscle moving as he sat there, staring. The dog's behavior somewhat startled the Clown, seeing as how he had never in his life acted this way.

Nothing would draw the dog's attention away, not even when Mana tossed a ball to him. Instead of catching it like he usually did, it merely bounced off the side of the dog's head, the impact going unregistered as he continued staring. Sighing, Mana went to scratch the terrier behind the ear when he received a low, warning yip from the dog, the hairs on the dog's back bristling slowly as his lips pulled back in a snarl.

Surprised and somewhat shocked, he went to pick the dog up, only to have his hand nipped by the small dog when he tried. Immediately pulling back, Mana jumped to his feet, anger written in his smiling clown make-up as he glared down at the dog. "What's gotten into you?" he asked, soliciting no form of a response as Tramp continued staring out at the sliver of tarp, chocolate brown eyes blazing as he continued to snarl threatening.

Clearly, the dog could see something that his master could not.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Never, had he thought he would have this much trouble with a single akuma. I mean, he was a General for crying out loud, this shouldn't be so hard. It would be really embarrassing if word got out that he, Cross Marian, newly ranked General, was having troubles locating a shitty level one akuma.

Growling, he continued running forward through the forest, his single red eye ablaze as he followed the path the akuma had ran off to. God was it in for a world of hell when he found it. Because he was not about to let that hunk of metal get away.

Grip tightening on the handle of his fire arm, he eventually emerged from the dense forest, surprised by where he had ended up. And not at all thoroughly pleased. "Ah shit…" he muttered darkly as his eyes fell upon the series of tents a mile or so away, the sight very familiar to the red-haired General. If he had a hunch, which he did, then the damn akuma was sure to be there, hiding. And who's to say there weren't more.

Clearly, trouble was sure to draw near no matter where Mana Walker and that brat went.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm back! Miss me? …Anyways, thank you all who were very understandin__g. Now that my life is in order, I figure I'll be able to slip back into my routine. Sorry this sort of short, I just wanted to torture you all with this cliff hanger. But with what I've hinted, you'll probably know what's going to happen in the next chapter. If you don't…well…you'll just have to wait. Hope this chapter was satisfactory. Let me know if I'm going too fast because really, I didn't expect this Act to run this long and still have quite a few chapters planned in the future for this Act._

_Thanks a whole bunch __**Allen the Musician**__!_


	10. Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

Ch. 9

_I need some distraction, oh beautiful release_

_Memories seep from my veins_

_They may be empty and weightless and maybe_

_I'll find some peace tonight_

_...~…_

_It don't make no difference, escaping one last time_

_It's easier to believe_

_In this sweet madness, oh this glorious sadness_

_That brings me to my knees_

_Sarah McLachlan: In the Arms of an Angel_

Allen sat there eagerly on the edge of his seat, his eyes focused on all that was going on, on the stage below. Jugglers were all around, balancing on unicycles while trapeze artists swung up from high above. It was all very entertaining, but the little boy had to admit, the clowns were his favorite parts. Mostly because Mana was a clown and partly because he wanted to be one himself. Being a clown seemed so wild and carefree, with nothing to keep you from being as happy as one could be.

Someday, Allen dreamed of making the whole world smile. Silly, I know, but that's what he dreamed.

But that thought seemed to last for but a brief moment before a sudden, ear-splitting shriek from his far right grabbed his attention. And that was when his world turned upside-down.

A large, bulbous shape stood over the crowd, hovering over where the strange man who had been staring at him from before had been sitting His stomach jolted at the sight of the massive cannons that were situated on the creature, the weapons firing massive bullets. The sound made him cringe, his silver eyes going wide as saucers as the thing continued firing, hitting innocent people.

The sight was horrific. The people unfortunate enough to get hit gave soundless screams as black pentacles appeared all over their bodies, darkening their skin. And soon, there would be enough of the black stars to cover the person's entire body so that it was now a blackened color that was completely unnatural. Then they would just break away into dust, just like that.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Everyone was going ballistic as they ran out of the tent, shoving and pushing the people around them as they sought safety away from the bulbous creature. But that only seemed to make the strange creature attack even more, more large bullets sailing through the air and hitting some unfortunate being. It was truly a mad house in that one circus tent.

Allen sat there rigid, his left arm feeling all strange and tingly, various twitches distilling the limb. He clutched it to his chest as he stared wide-eyed at the creature, unable to move from his seat. Klaud had followed everyone else's lead in trying to escape, but upon noticing that little Allen wasn't following her, she had to turn back. She wasn't about to leave the boy for dead after all.

"Allen!" she cried, pushing past people who were rushing forward, struggling to get to the otherwise paralyzed boy still seated in the stands. Lau Shimin was striding her shoulders, strangely quiet as he shook on her pale shoulders.

The monkey's hair was standing on end, it's eyes becoming demonic as a silent caterwaul escaped its mouth. And quite suddenly, he leapt forward, his entire shape changing as he came charging at the creature. Form lengthened and size increased, Lau Shimin was an entirely different being than what it had once originally been, the true power that had once been buried inside finally unleashed.

Klaud watched in amazement as the thing that had once been her little monkey clung to the creature, giving it simple punches in an attempt to subdue the monster. Lau Shimin's tail was whipping, his teeth sinking into the bulbous monstrosity as the thing attempt to dislodge the large white beast on its back. In its confusion, the thing was firing more rounds of its large bullets, the attack going through the tent and setting alight the striped fabric.

Upon seeing the flash of fire, Klaud snapped out of her daze and charged forward to the still shell-shocked Allen, wide silver eyes still focused on the battle that was ensuing between the two creatures. Pushing past some more people, she rushed towards the boy, grabbing him by his shoulders and shaking him furiously in an attempt to snap the boy out of his daze. "Allen, snap out it, we have to go!" she warned, her words not reaching his ears as flashes of images so very familiar came creeping across his mind.

Noticing that the boy wasn't about to move anytime soon, Klaud resigned herself with the fact that she was going to actually have to move him herself. Scooping him up into her arms, the young animal tamer held the boy close, arms wrapped protectively around him as she descended the stands. Rushing down as fast as she could go, the sudden crack of an oncoming bullet stopped her in her tracks, the large discharge hitting the floor she was about to step on.

That part of the stands gave way, crumbling away into a gaping hole as black pentacles also began spreading across the woodwork. Reeling back, Klaud gave a look back and noticed in fear that the fire was spreading rapidly and Lau Shimin and the thing had crashed into the stands up above.

In other words, they were trapped.

**DGMDGMDGM**

When the strange creature appeared, Mana automatically knew that he had to get out of there. But before he could, he had to get Allen out of there. He would not go anywhere without the boy. Sure, he wasn't much for heroics, but Allen was his world, the only thing he had left that reminded him of his brother. He could not possibly leave him behind. He would not hear of it.

"Come on Tramp." He said, patting his legs and the dog came bounding into his arms, quivering. Dog in his arms, he turned to the stands, pushing past the crowd that was surging forward.

He was pushed and shoved as he forced his way against the current, jarred this way and that as people came rushing past. Cries and screams of fear filled the air, the occasional sounds of cannon fire mingling in with the cries of the crowd. A woman beside him was unfortunate enough to get clipped in the shoulder by one of those massive bullets. But instead of falling or even stumbling, she froze in her place.

Mana watched in horror as her skin was steadily covered by black stars, appearing sporadically across her body. When her skin had blackened, he went to touch her, futilely hoping that there was something he could do to help. But when his hand was mere inches from her bleeding shoulder, the woman crumpled into dust, just like that.

Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust.

The Clown clamped a hand over his mouth, fighting hard not to retch from both the sight and the smell. Shaking his head, he moved on, thoughts switching over to his little boy. He couldn't stop himself from thinking a storm load of scenarios, all of which had the boy dead one way or another. He knew it was wrong of him to think that way, but he couldn't help it. The boy was just so small, so fragile. So easily broken.

If something were to happen to Allen, it could very much kill him.

Still forcing himself against the rush of the crowd, his eyes suddenly caught sight of a large, white beast that came leaping at the bulbous creature, clinging to it and punching it with its enlarged fists. Mana took but a moment to regard the creature, unsure of where it had came from or what it even was. Then again, he didn't know what the bulbous thing with the cannons was either. But now wasn't the time to be asking questions.

As the white beast continued brawling with the thing, Mana continued his struggle forward, briefly catching sight of a wisp of blonde hair. Blonde hair…Klaud! Perking up, he cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, "Klaud!" But his calls were swallowed up by the panic of the crowd still struggling to make it out of the tent, the young animal tamer unaware of his calls for her.

Cursing under his breath, he pushed out of what was left of the crowd, his eyes widening at the sight of fresh fire quickly spreading through the fabric. The beast and the thing had taken their fight to the stands, the thing firing more rounds in an attempt to dislodge the white beast. One of the shots hit roughly the piece of woodwork in front of him, creating a gaping hole that could not be so easily crossed. And judging by the light smolder that was coming from the wood planks, it would not be very wise to touch it. Who knows what could happen if you did.

Looking up, mild relief washed over him at the sight of both Allen and Klaud alright, though separated by the large hole in the stands. The teen looked relieved to see him, her face brightening despite the situation. "Mana, are you alright?" she asked, her eyes flickering over to the battle that was still being ensued behind her. Mana smiled, appreciating the curetsy of asking about his welfare, but now really wasn't the best time.

"Never better," he said dryly, slowly licking his lips. "Do you think you can jump from there?"

The blonde took a moment to judge the distance and then looked to see how much of a running start she could get. The fire had spread to the woodwork and was now steadily making its way towards the two of them. Biting her lip, she gave a saddened shake of her head. The gaping hole was too wide for her to make a simple jump and she was losing the ground needed to make a running start. No, she couldn't save the both of them. But there was still Allen.

"How bout I toss Allen to you, I'm sure I can make the throw." She said, looking down at the boy that was still looking over her shoulder, eyes watching the fight.

Shaking him, she pulled him away, turning him to look at Mana. Upon seeing the Clown, he seemed to snap out of the reverie he had been left in, suddenly aware that they were in serious danger. Tears fell from his eyes as he cried out to Mana, stretching his little hands out to him in hopes of reaching him. But he was too far away for anything like that to be possible.

Mana looked to his child desperately, heart racing as he mulled over her words. He wanted to take her offer un-hesitantly, but he knew that that would warrant her death sentence. He was not about to leave anyone behind. He wasn't going to lose anymore of his family to things he didn't rightfully understand.

"What about you? What are you going to do?" he questioned, wanting to see what she had in mind for herself. She simply looked at him sadly, a serene smile coming onto her face as she said, "Don't worry about me, I'll—" He interrupted her before she had the chance to tell him a lie, his eyes watering.

"Don't you dare tell me that you'll be fine, missy. Because I know full and well that you won't. I'm not about to leave you alone to die!" he declared, wincing slightly at the sound of the ground beneath him crack, the ground beneath him sinking slightly.

"This is the only way, Mana." She said slowly, swallowing hard as she readjusted her hold around the crying boy. Mana's eyes bugged as she prepared to throw him, his throat tightened. "Klaud!" he warned, teeth gnashing as his eyes watered further.

"I'll see you around guys. You two take care." She said, taking in a deep breath before using all of her strength to toss the little boy across the gaping hole. Moving his dog around so that he was holding him in one arm, Mana deftly caught the boy, wrapping his arms around the two in an attempt to hold them close.

Looking up as he ignored another, louder, crack from the ground beneath him and all around, his watery gaze focused on the blonde teen still standing there, a small smile on her face. The flames were catching up to her, the ground behind her breaking away, leaving her with nowhere else to go. She stared at the Clown, her chest tightening at the sight of them still standing there.

Sighing, she called, "Go, you don't have much time." Mana just stared at her sadly, choking back tears. He had vowed that he wouldn't leave another member of his family behind, and here he was, having to eat his words. It was so frustrating! Swallowing hard, he said, "You know, you're a very brave girl."

"Yeah, yeah, quit your sweet talk and get going. The ground is going to cave any minute." She said, eyeing the fire warily as it came inching forward, licking her boots.

Allen gave a hard sniffle, tears still streaking his cheeks. "Klaud…" he moaned, breaking out into another round of sobs as he turned back into Mana. Mana rubbed his back the best he could before he slowly, and with great hesitance, began descending the crumbling stands. But when he took another step on a rather loose board, the ground gave way, sending them all crashing down.

He could hear his child give a terrified shriek as they were lurched down into darkness, Tramp yelping furiously as they fell. All Mana could do was hold them close, curling himself around them in an attempt to shield them from the crumbling planks of wood that were collapsing all around them.

The last thing he could remember before everything just went blank was a piercing cry of pain. And it had belonged to Klaud.

**DGMDGMDGM**

When Mana came to, all he could see was hollowed darkness. Wisps of smoldering smoke and risen sawdust filled the air, clouding his vision. Everything felt claustrophobic, his lungs feeling as though they were on fire from all the smoke and dust his lungs were forced to inhale. Coughing and sputtering, he went to move but found himself pinned under a heap of splintered wood, unable to feel one of his legs.

And that was not a good thing.

Coughing some more, he rubbed his eyes and smeared away some of his face paint. Though he really didn't care at this point. Wheezing, he noticed with dissatisfaction that he was coughing up blood. Grimacing at the crimson splatters that spotted the ground before him, he sighed and sank to the ground, pressing his cheek to the sodden earth. He was very tired, and wished this all to be nothing but a very bad dream. But then he remember something.

"Allen," he croaked. "Where are you?" He paused for a moment, waiting for a reply. But when none came, he started to panic, his heart thumping faster. "Allen!"

"I'm over here." Came a weak voice, followed by a round of choked coughs. Following the sound of the little voice, he had to strain his eyes to see where the boy was.

When he actually could see, he found Allen laying on his back, spread out and staring up at the ceiling of the little pocket they had been conveniently trapped in. "Can you move?" asked Mana, hoping that the boy could maybe help him out of the rubble that was trapping his legs. Allen gave some more strangled coughs before weakly murmuring, "My left arm is trapped. My body hurts, Mana. I don't think I can move." Distress was his voice, the soft sound thickening before he began sniffling, signaling that he had went back to crying.

"It's alright, Allen. Calm down, and I'll try to think of something." He assured, though he himself had a hard time believing his own words. How was he going to get them out of this when he couldn't even free himself?

Taking in a deep breath, he tried calming himself down, knowing full and well that he would have to stay calm in order to make it through this. If he wasn't, then it wasn't going to help anyone. If he wasn't calm, then who would be? No one, that's who.

But this all seemed hopeless in the long run.

Unable to think of anything that would help, he struggled not to sob. It was all hopeless, just plain and utter hopeless. There was nothing he could do that would save them. Klaud's sacrifice would be all for nothing.

"There you are!" came a gruff voice, earning the Clown's attention. Looking up, he watched as some of the rubble gave way and light from above shined down.

Mana flinched at the sight of embers flickering up, worried that another fire would pick up again. Shrugging the thought away, he struggled to make out who the person was because voice alone was not enough and the light behind the person was making his features quite impossible to make out.

The person gave a heavy snort before stepping in, shadows blocking his features, but still shedding some sort of light on who he was. He was obviously someone he didn't know off the bat, but he did look sort of familiar. He just couldn't put his finger on it. "Who are you?" he asked pensively, another round of coughs racking his body, sending more blood up his throat and splattering to the ground.

"No time for formalities. Now come on, we've got to go!" he barked, his head turning this way and that before he looked down at Mana. "Where's the brat?"

"Do you think I'd be stuck here if I could?" Mana asked squarely, ignoring the brat question. The man seemed confused until he spotted the pile of rubble trapping his legs. Rolling his eye, he bounded forward, pushing the rubble away with ease.

Mana bit his tongue at the sudden assault of pain, his left leg screaming out in pain before going completely numb. Grunting, he pushed himself to his feet, straining himself to point where he collapsed back to the ground. Cursing, he tried again, this time succeeding but also earning a wave of agonizing pain.

"Where's the brat, Walker!" demanded the strange yet vaguely familiar man, ignoring the fact that Mana was in a boat load of pain.

The Clown took a brief moment to look himself over, tentatively touching the various scratches and bruises that adorned his cheeks and arms, his clown suit now in mangled shreds. He had a rather nasty gash to his abdomen that was deep and still bleeding profusely, but he hardly took any mind of it. Right now, he had to get Allen out of here.

Ignoring the other man that was starting to get on his nerves for his loud and harsh speech, he moved over to where the boy was trapped, dragging his lame leg. As he moved along, he spotted Tramp out of the corner of his eye, his head turning to see his furry companion. But he was not at all pleased with what he saw. In fact, it made him gag, his throat tightening soon after. "Oh, Tramp, no…" he moaned, his stinging eyes focused on the dead dog, it's body twisted in a way that was unnatural, most of its body crushed from all the wood it had been unfortunate enough to be pinned under.

Bowing his head as a few tears managed to slip past his eyes, he pushed past his sorrow and moved to Allen, knowing that it was the little boy whom he would have to save now. Moving closer to the boy that was strangely quiet, Mana peered down to see the boy was out cold, his small chest heaving rapidly. From what Mana could tell, the boy was in shock. Which only meant that he had to get him out of here, and fast.

Cringing slightly as he bent down, he ignored the pain as he began pushing away the scorched rubble, finding the effort extremely taxing. Sweat was already trailing his face, smearing whatever was left of his face paint. Pushing away the burnt pieces of wood was harder than he thought, and everything was going agonizingly slow. But then, he was given unexpected help.

"Move, I'll do this." Ordered the strange man with the long hair, pushing Mana away before digging away at the rubble.

He proved to move faster than Mana would've thought. Maybe it was because he didn't have a scratch on him or even a broken leg to slow him down. Or maybe because he was more use to having to do strenuous work. Whatever the case may be, he got the job done fast, pulling Allen out unceremoniously and basically throwing him into Mana's arms. Grunting, he dusted his gloved hands off, straightening himself up when something, a sound, caught their attention.

A low moan came muffled from the rubble, someone buried deep within the splintered wood. The man simply rolled his eye before turning away, not giving the trapped person a second thought. "Come on, let's go." He ordered, not really giving room for Mana to question his words, but he was hesitant to leave. What if the person was stuck and needed help. They couldn't just leave them there.

"We have to help them!" countered Mana, tucking Allen under his right arm, settling all of his weight on his right side. The man looked bored and infuriated at the same time. It was actually kind of intimidating, Mana admitted. But he would not back down against the man's piercing glare.

"You're wasting your time, we have to get you and the brat out of here."

"Why?" he questioned, feeling that now wasn't the time to be stubborn, but couldn't resist.

"Because they'll come after the brat. And once they find him, they will try to kill him. You either listen to my orders or go and get yourself killed. Either way, the brat is going to come with me, regardless of what you choose!" he countered, a rolling growl coming from his throat.

Instantly Mana was on the defensive, holding Allen tighter but not too tight that it would crush his diaphragm, completely ignoring his strange words that didn't make sense. "Are you saying you're going to take Allen away from me?" Mana questioned, ignoring the cough that was threatening to surge as he spoke. The man seemed to stiffen at the name, momentarily stupefied until he shook it away, his face darkening drastically. But that didn't faze Mana. He took it as a challenge.

"You are not taking my son away." He declared, inching away from the man and sneaking a glance at the pile of rubble still concealing the mysterious person. The man before him sneered at his words, hand idly fingering the firearm that Mana had just noticed. Oh great, was this guy going to play dirty and kill him on the spot if things didn't go his way?

"Your son? If I remember correctly, he was the brat's brat." He said, sparking up the Clown's interest. How did he know Allen really wasn't his son?

Then, of course, it hit him.

The man standing before him was the very same one that had been with his brother that rainy night when his life changed forever. Sure, his hair was exceedingly longer than before and his black and silver clothes from before seemed to have changed, the silver appearing to have been replaced with a gold instead. With the limited lighting he was given, it was kind of hard to judge something so trivial. Liked it mattered anyways.

"Who are you?" Mana questioned again, having racked his memory to find that he didn't recall the man's name.

"My name isn't important. It's what I do, that is. But like you'd ever believe me if I told you. Now come on, we're wasting valuable time. Do you want to be killed?"

"I'll go, if you help that person stuck in the rubble." The Clown negotiated, earning an annoyed look from the flame-haired man.

"Why do you care?"

"Why don't you? Look, it could be my friend, Klaud, and she could be very hurt. So please, just work with me here and then we can be on our way."

The man gave an indignant snort before walking over to the broken heap of wood, swiftly digging through it just so that they could get going. He really didn't want to do this, but if it would satisfy the Clown, then what the hell. Eventually he found a girl, a blonde teen, laying face forward in the ground, with a bulky creature protecting her from the harshness of the heap. And though he really would've rather just gone and taken the two of them away from here right away, the strange beast with the girl had his attention.

It wasn't any normal beast, nor was it a creature of the Earl. It was almost like it was…no, it couldn't be. Innocence had never taken on the form of a sentient being before. But hey, God works in mysterious ways. Maybe the beast was in fact innocence. Then the girl would have to be its wielder, if it had been why it protected her. So then it would have to be his duty to send her to headquarters. Great…

Mana gasped at the sight, relieved and surprised to find Klaud laying there, barely conscious, bruised, battered, and broken. Burns adorn her arms and legs, and parts of her hair was singed. But that hardly compared to the severity of the wounds to her face. Her once flawless face was extremely burned, the skin flared and puffed up to a deep red, the appearance making Mana's skin crawl.

He went to reach her, but then remembered that he was not only holding an unconscious Allen, but also had a broken leg ready to give way any second. He couldn't help her, despite the fact that he really wanted to. But to his surprise, the man made his way forward, scooping up Klaud in his arms and watching as the strange beast shrank back down into a monkey, Lau Shimin, to Mana's surprise. When it was down to its normal size, the man picked him up as well, dropping him on top of the unconscious teen.

Though this unexpected turn was surely going to compromise things, he was going to have to deal with it. So things weren't going exactly how he planned, big deal. He'd just have to work around it, that's all. Taking no second look at the disarrayed Clown, he began walking back to where he had came, climbing out of the wreckage with ease despite having to carry a girl in his arms. Before he was completely out of sight, he said, "You better keep up, or I'm going to take the brat away from you and leave you behind."

Cross continued walking, satisfied at the shuffling noise below as the possessive Clown made his way forward. In all honestly, he had no plans of taking the snot nose brat with him, he simply used it as a means to keep the Clown moving. The threat surely got the man fired up, giving him a surge of adrenaline that would keep him moving. And as long as he kept moving, then that was fine with him. But move too slow, then, well…he was going to have to figure that one out later. Right now, he didn't have time to carry out trivial threats. He had to get out of here.

Keeping an ear open for Mana as he came scrambling out of the wreckage, tossing Allen out before pulling himself out with great difficulty, Cross took a pause in his marching just so that Mana could get himself out of the mess before continuing on. His aggravation was steadily growing with every second that slipped by, upset that his promise wouldn't let him just leave them behind to die. Because he would've much rather have done that then go so incredibly slow, leaving them all rather exposed. And at this point, he was very tempted to disregard his dislike for children and take the boy with him and leave Mana behind. At least then he'd be able to pick up the pace because it was the Clown that was slowing the group down.

But he'd never be able to sleep soundly at night if the Musician's brother died while he had the means of helping him and this thought was heavy on his conscious. The Musician would see to it himself that it would haunt him for the rest of his life 'til the day he died if that were to happen. Even if it seemed rather farfetched and impossible. Knowing his dead friend though, he'd make it so, one way or another.

Continuing his agonizingly slow pace, Cross took a moment to look at the surroundings, not at all pleased with what he found, but not shocked either. The circus was in complete disarray, fires jetting out haphazardly and spreading quickly on all surfaces. A scattered number of people were seen roaming the trashed grounds, struggling to find a way to safely escape. Bodies unfortunate enough to escape the fires littered the ground, their bodies severely burnt. Piles of dust scattered across the floor, many more people having been killed by the akuma. He himself had taken out four, and he was pretty sure there was one more lurking in the shadows. In which case, he would have to take it out. But for now, he had to get the Clown and his brat out of here.

"Come on, keep up. You're slowing us down, Clown!" shouted Cross, smirking when he heard Mana grumble his complaints over the abuse he was getting under his breath.

They traveled in silence soon after, a steady but distant gap between Cross and Mana, the Clown lagging behind by a good 4ft, but struggling to maintain the pace. This strenuous movement wasn't helping his leg at all, only making it worse as he was forced to drag it along, the wound at his abdomen still bleeding profusely. If it wasn't for adrenaline blocking out most of the pain, he'd have given up by now.

"Where are we going?" he asked, readjusting his hold around Allen, who was still out cold and deathly pale, his breathing ragged but not nearly as fast as he had been earlier. At least now he wasn't hyperventilating.

"I saw some folk preparing some wagons. I'm dropping you two off there." The man replied gruffly, still keeping up his god awful pace.

"And if they aren't there?"

The red-haired man seemed to pause in answering, appearing to take a moment to think before saying in the same, equally as annoyed tone he had used before, "We'll worry about that later. Now shut up and keep moving."

Mana was quiet after that, focused solely on making his way out of there, while struggling with the weight of Allen in his arms and having to carefully drag his leg along the littered ground. And of course, keep up the pace. He wasn't exactly sure if the strange savior was actually telling the truth or was bluffing, but Mana wasn't about to test the truthfulness of this harsh man's words. For all he knew, the strange man wasn't bluffing.

Sighing, he continued trudging forward, readjusting his hold over the boy. He snuck a glance at the unconscious boy, noticing that though his face was littered with various cuts, it was unlikely that any of them would scar. His hair was in complete disarray, sawdust softening his normally brown hair to an ashy gray, some of the tips of his hair slightly singed in the back. The only movement he got besides the rise and fall of his chest was his twitching left arm, the entire limb spazzing out lightly.

It looked puffy and swollen, some of the red scales torn away from the pressure of being pinned. The green, cross thing was glowing brilliantly, a radiance about it that had never been there before. The light pulsated, surging in and out before it suddenly died away, the deformed limb suddenly going slack.

Confused, Mana looked up to see, to his relief, two wagons in the distance, covered with people struggling to heft items onto the two horse drawn carts. He had to squint his eyes, but, he was relieved to find that some of his friends were in the mix of people working to set off. That was sure to guarantee a place for him and Allen on one of the two wagons. But the man was a different story, and Klaud appeared as though she'd hardly survive the night. Then again, he wasn't too sure that he would either.

Negative thoughts weren't going to help anyone though, so he might as well look on the brighter side of things. At least he and Allen and some of his friends were alive. That had to count for something, right?

Sparking his newly found resolve to get out of here, he vainly picked up the pace, hobbling over in an attempt to catch up to the red-haired man. Huffing and puffing, he nearly stumbled when his lame leg caught on some roots, but quickly caught himself and made sure he paid better attention as he continued pathetically dragging his numb leg. Hope grew the closer they got to the two wagons, tears of joy watering his eyes as his friends turned to see who was approaching, shock-filled expressions adorning most of their faces while a few had some sense to come rushing over to help.

He noticed Bell out of the group, the older woman taking Allen gently out of his hands while Matthew ducked under his now free arm, allowing him to lean on the younger, more robust man. Everything kind of spun after that, all becoming a washed up blur as he was hauled into one of the wagons, set beside a severely injured Christian, Alina gently attending to some of his wounds as best as she could.

And somewhere along the way, Allen had woken up, looking at everyone with feverishly wide eyes, his head turning this way and that before turning to Mana. The Clown felt his son gently hold his hand, giving his own a gentle squeeze. Mana turned and smiled at the silent boy, glad that he wasn't asking questions or getting in anyone's way as they made their final preparations.

Lightly kissing the top of his head, Mana signaled him to stay put as he shifted around. This earned him a warning glare from Alina, her dark gaze warning him that it was better that he didn't move. But he took no heed of it, desperately wanting to thank the red-haired man and inquire if he was going to leave Klaud with them.

Scanning the small crowd of people, his eyes quickly fell upon the man that stuck out like a sore thumb, a cigarette now lit in his mouth. Klaud was still in his arms, her face relaxed despite the gruesome burn that still oozed puss and blood on her once unmarred face. His red-eyed gaze locked with Mana's, eye narrowing to a thin slit as he stared at the Clown silently. Mana wanted to tell him his thanks, and ask his questions, but already knew that both would be pretty pointless. It was clear that Klaud wouldn't be joining them, even if she wanted to. And the man hardly looked like one for thanks. So both endeavors would pretty much be wasted efforts on his part.

Sighing, he gave his savior a simple tilt of his head, the gesture surprisingly returned before a wave of people carrying the last load of cargo to the other wagon crossed their vision, blocking the man from Mana. When the group of people were gone, the red-haired man had vanished, Klaud along with him. This came as a disappointment to Mana, seeing as how the strange man knew something of his brother and possibly his whereabouts, and the Clown never had enough time to inquire those things he desperately wished to know. Hell, he didn't even know the man's name.

But something told him that this wasn't the last of this strange man. Nope, he was almost positive that he would see him again, one of these days.

"Mana…" came a soft voice, followed by a gentle tug to one of his tattered shirt sleeves. Turning his head, he smiled at the sight of Allen's innocent face, his silver eyes still very wide.

"Yes, Allen?" he croaked, shifting around so that he was back to sitting beside Christian, Allen following so that he was back to his original position beside Mana.

"I'm hungry…" trailed the boy, his head falling to the Clown's shoulder, his face snuggling into his arm.

Mana couldn't stop himself from giving a hearty laugh, pulling his arm free from the boy before wrapping it around him, pushing Allen close to his side. He continued to laugh, the strong sound ringing until the wagon they sat on jerked forward, signaling that they were finally moving. Then his boisterous laughter began dying down as he finally caught sight of all the chaos that had once been their circus camp.

Smoke from the still burning fire rose up into the night sky, giving it a smoky and hazed look. Tents were trampled, trash and burnt bodies scattering the ground, piles of dust mingling in with the wreckage. Caterwauls from the animals that were being left behind filled the air, their cries and howls ringing as the fire crept up to where they laid forgotten.

The stench of smoke and death was heavy in the air, sending an unwelcome chill down Mana's spine, his stomach lurching at the sight of a lone zebra galloping across the ruined circus grounds. It's back was covered in flames that ran up its spine, its mane now a fiery red instead of black and white, its cries piercing loud in his mind as he continued watching the otherwise majestic creature run while it clung madly to life. He'd never forget the sight, no matter how much he'd try.

Vaguely, he realized that he was crying, hard sobs racking his body as Allen clung to him tighter, ignoring the fact that his little arm had brushed his still bleeding abdomen. He couldn't stop crying, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as they were pulled away from the sickening sight with only a few supplies and meager hopes of escaping this hellish nightmare. And start a new, like they had planned. Although many of their friends would never make the journey with them, long lost in the wreckage of this disastrous night.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

* * *

_Author's Note: Phew…this took a LONG time to write. It's the longest chapter so far and I would like to know what you think. Was it ok? Was it awesome? Please, leave a review telling me what you thought._

_Well…thank you all who have been generous enough to leave me a review. They always bring a smile on my face reading your comments and thoughts. And thanks a whole bunch __**Allen the Musician**__, for editing this lengthy chapter. I appreciate your help, as always._


	11. The Grey

Ch. 10

'_So hold on_

_Be strong_

_Everyday on we'll go_

_I'm here, don't you fear_

_Little one don't let go'_

_-RyanDan: Tears of an Angel_

_He wasn't sure when it had happened or really why, but Mana Walker suddenly found himself passed out, away from the waking world and sucked into a dream. This one wasn't nearly as strange as the last one had been but maybe equally as bizarre. Well, bizarre in the sense that he didn't know why he was there or exactly where he was. _

_But in this place, this white room, he was clean and intact, his clown garb removed and replaced with a fairly nice black suit with tails, his top hat planted proudly atop his head. The tangles in his hair had been combed out and brushed back nice and neat, his suit freshly pressed. There was not a scratch on him, his face clean and freshly shaven. _

_The room itself though wasn't so glamorous. It was completely bleak, everything other than himself a plain white color, nothing tainting the otherwise empty feeling room. A long table stood before him, a chair resting between him and the table. The bouquet of roses that rested in what he assumed was the center of the table was even white, their petals fresh and blooming with life. _

_A flicker to his right caught his attention. Turning his head, all that he was greeted with was an expansive mirror, reflecting the white scene back at him. The only thing that was out of place though, was the image of the shadow man from before seen sitting in the opposite chair that was across the table on the other end, hollowed out white eyes staring squarely at Mana while he himself stared at the mirrored reflection._

_When he turned his head back forward, his heart nearly jumped into his throat, a wave of emotions flaring at the sight. Sitting in the chair directly across from him with his hands folded neatly across his crossed legs was his younger brother, Allen Walker._

_His brother, or at least something that looked like him, was in a suit that was opposite of his own, the design the same just the colors inverted so that white was the dominant color, making him blend into the room. His outfit was a little loose but he still looked dignified, a top hat missing. Not that his brother was ever very fond of wearing one to begin with. He'd always say that in some way or another, it would find a way to fall of his head, no matter the situation. And he had said that it made his head look lopsided, what with all the unruly hair he had that never seemed capable of being properly tamed. So he had done away with wearing one many years ago._

"_Please," he said with a relaxed air around him, a gentle smile on his face. "Have a seat."_

_Mana was flabbergasted, a whirlwind of thoughts rushing through his head. Was this really his brother? Or was he the twisted imitation that had not merely murdered himself but his own son as well? Could he stand to trust this _thing_ after the mistake he had made in the last dream involving his brother? What if something equally as twisted happened and little Allen was somehow drawn into the equation? He couldn't let that happen again, he would not let it. _

_The thing that was his brother frowned sadly, his head dipping and his bangs obscuring his blue eyes. Taking in a shaky breath, he said, "Mana, this is me. I'm really here this time. So please, take a seat and just listen to what I have to say. Whether you choose to believe it is entirely up to you."_

"_Why should I? How can I really know that it's actually my brother talking and not that…that _thing_ from before?" questioned Mana, not at all budging from his spot behind the empty chair, his face set in a serious expression._

_Allen shook his head in dismay, a light and bitter chuckle escaping his lips as he threw his head back. Starring up at the white ceiling, he ran a hand through his unruly dark brown hair. He took a moment to think before saying, "That's the thing, you can't. You don't know whether it's really the brother that was taken away from you or the monster that killed you in a dream. But all I'm asking for is a little bit of trust and faith so that you can hear me out. Because what I have to say is very important," he paused, finally looking back at his brother._

_His older brother held a wavering expression, appearing to be still distrustful but also appearing to want to believe. That, at least, was a good sign. Sitting up, he leaned forward slightly as he continued, "It affects everything. And by everything, I mean my son. The boy you've grown to call your own."_

_Mana became immediately interested, to his annoyance. How was he suppose to feign disinterest when little Allen was brought up? Just what exactly was his brother hinting at? He had to know, he couldn't deny that. So, with great hesitance, he pulled out the white chair and took a seat. This action in itself was enough to show that he was willing to listen. _

"_Alright, first of all, I would like to say that I'm deeply sorry you've had to go through all of this chaos. I never intended on having you read the score. Then again, Cross was never very cooperative with these type of things, especially when I was very vague. But I guess that was my own fault in a way." Trailed his brother, giving a tired sigh as he rested his chin on the palm of one of his gloved hands._

_Mana looked to his younger brother perplexed. It was only the beginning of this discussion and already he was confused. What was Allen talking about? Was he…was he insinuating that this all started because of that strange piece of paper with the circles and lines, if that was in fact the so called 'score' he was talking about._

_Noticing his confusion, Allen continued, "I apologize if this is confusing you. What I mean is, because of that single sheet of paper that you found, my original plans have sort of changed. I wasn't expecting you to see the thing, much less experience what you did. There's only so much I can do to fend off my black side, but in this case, it's easier to contact you with the current state you're in without having to worry about my other self too much."_

_And still, Mana was confused. Nothing his brother said made any sense. "I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. What do you mean?" he asked, not following what he was being told. Allen gave him a sympathetic look, knowing full and well that if there was any way around it, he would've opted to not tell his brother anything. But seeing as how he was now inexplicitly involved, he had to know._

"_Listen to me Mana, because you're going to get lost if you don't follow what I'm about to say. If you don't, you're just going to get even more lost. Understand?" he said, waiting to see Mana give him an assured nod, though hesitance played in his eyes. "Alright, well you remember all those times where I blew up on you when you inquired about my job? Well…"_

_Allen explained the best he could about the clan of Noah, sharing with his brother the role he played as the Musician. As the Musician, he was the only one that could truly move this thing called the Ark, with the use of a piano that was connected to the heart. And this piano that was connected to the heart was located in a secret room in which no one knew of its existence, not even the Millennium Earl, a man he described as being a great evil with a perpetual smile that could easily fool you._

_Mana listened to it all the best he could, struggling to understand the meaning of this idiocy that seemed basically impossible and improbable. But here he was, believing what his brother was telling him, despite the fact that this all felt like some odd and twisted fairytale. Because that was what it was. A fairytale, something you'd tell a child at night just to get a good scare out of them. But the look in his brother's eyes assured him that this was no fairytale. _

"_So after this and that, I decided to leave my so called 'family' in the hopes of both finding you and defeating the Earl. Of course, I succeeded in the former, what with my son still alive proof enough. But the latter…I wasn't so lucky." He continued, still ever so vague. Mana didn't like the sound of this, in fact, he was dreading it. After all, how was he talking to him in this dream? There was an answer to this that came up in the Clown's head, but he chose to push it away. It was just too painful to accept. _

"_Please tell me you're not…that you're…" choked Mana, unable to say the actual word. If he did, he knew he'd instantly break down. Then again, he'd probably end up breaking down whether he said it or not, so either way, it really didn't matter._

_Allen gave a single nod, his face grave as he muttered softly, "Yes, I am. For about five years now. I'm sorry you had to find out this way." Mana bit back a sob, his eyes watering as his bottom lip trembled, his head dipping so that he could avoid his brother's gaze. It was all just too much and he knew that this was only the tip of the iceberg. There was still much more to tell before this discussion was drawn to a close. He was just worried that he wouldn't be able to handle it as well as he had hoped. _

_And to only make matters worse, his brother said something that sent his heart racing and his head spinning. "In fact, part of the reason why I'm not having any trouble contacting you is because you're kind of, in a sense, dead. But just for a moment, I assure you! I'm going to send you back, because it's not your time to join me."_

_The Clown was too shocked to speak. He…was dead? What was little Allen doing then, if he was dead at the moment? How was the child taking this strange turn? He must be freaking out! His brother stared at him, gauging the shock before continuing, "And the other reason is because you saw the score. It was for my son's eyes alone, and if it weren't for our family ties, it could've very easily driven you mad. In fact, it almost had. That's why when Cross managed to obtain it, I had informed him that he shouldn't look at it. So I couldn't prevent my Noah side from assaulting you in the form of that dream."_

"_Is that why I had that strange dream in the first place, and why little Allen had his?" croaked Mana, still avoiding his brother's gaze. His voice sounded painfully small at the moment, which disgusted the Clown._

_Allen gave another nod before saying, "It was why my Noah side appeared in your dream, because of the imbued power I placed in it. But with my son's, that was because of me and what I had to do." A hint of regret was in his tone, earning a small glance from his brother. Confusion and devastation still clouded his eyes, but curiosity picked its way through._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_I mean that…that I had to make him my successor. One day, he will unfortunately become the next Musician and pick up where I left off." He said sadly, earning another, more startled look from Mana. _

_Again, Mana was thrown for a loop. What was his brother thinking, subjecting his son to a similar fate he had experienced? What was he planning to accomplish out of this? From what he understood, the Noah thing that had once been inside of his brother was something corrosive, eating away at a person until they bended to its will. His brother had even said that he had gotten out of control on numerous occasions, the thought of his family and especially Mana back in those troubled times being the only thing that kept him sane enough to remain in control._

_But how could he think of doing such a thing to his own son?_

_As if to emphasize the multitude of this single, life changing transformation, the door that was behind his brother, one of which he had not realized it was even there, began rattling, a pounding sound echoing all around as something tried getting through. A shadow descended out from the cracks, darkening the space of wall the door occupied. Mana didn't need to ask whether or not it was what he thought it was. He already knew what it was._

"_How could you do such a…a terrible thing to your own child, Allen? "asked the still shell-shocked Mana._

_His brother smiled for some reason, one that only made Mana's anger flare. How could he smile over something so sinister as this? Unless this really wasn't his brother but the sick thing that was the alter ego of him. Oh this was all very confusing for the Clown and quite honestly, he didn't know what to believe or trust at the moment. He'd just have to keep his guard up for now, in case something really did happen. But a part of him trusted him and his out of place smile, so he was going to listen to him. At least for now._

"_I did it because he is our only hope. He will save us all, I know he will. Though his path is twisted and uncertain, I know that in the end, he will find his way to his destiny."_

"_I know I keep saying this, and please forgive me if I am a bit slow, but what do you mean? You're talking too vague for me to simply follow."_

_Leaning forward slightly with the same smile still stuck on his face he whispered, "He's God's most cherished child. One of neither light or darkness, black or white. He'll be the grey, a figure belonging to both worlds. And he'll put an end to this unwavering conflict." Tears of joy were trickling down his cheeks, a strong sense of relief surrounding his little brother._

_And for some reason, Mana found himself crying as well. Not out of sadness, but of joy. _

_Wiping his eyes with the back of his gloved hands, Mana struggled to recompose himself as Allen said, "Oh Mana, there is so much I would like to share with you, so much I have to tell. But I'm afraid you're needed back in the realm of the living."_

_Mana sat up that, trepidation and hesitance in his features. "Will I ever see you again, Allen?"_

"_I'm afraid you will. All of our lives henceforth are connected. And not by blood. But by fate. And destiny's hand cannot be stilled in this matter." He took in a large breath, exhaling slowly before smiling innocently at his older brother. "Goodbye Mana, I'll see you again soon. Take care of my son, he's missing you very dearly at the moment."_

_The older Walker brother smiled softly, not bothering to question the meaning of anything he had just heard. His brother seemed to know what he was talking about, and for now, he would go along with it. If what he had said was true, then little Allen seemed to be a rather important person in the future. Mana hoped he'd be around long enough to see his brother's words come true._

_And see what the kind of person, what kind of man little Allen would become._

"_Goodbye Allen, take care. Never stop—"_

"_Keep walking. I will Mana. You should do the same." His brother finished, still smiling._

_Mana nodded as everything began twisting and blurring, as if he was being pulled back into the living world. The Clown didn't protest, didn't fight. All that he could do was savor his brother's image as long as he could before that too became twisted and blurred. And then, all he was left with was darkness._

**DGMDGMDGM**

The first thing Mana noticed as his conscious came to was that everything was very loud. Screams and shrieks filled the air as people argued back and forth, a distinct voice rising above all others. It was the voice of a boy, a young boy, who was angrily screaming at everyone, his voice slurred from all the crying he was doing. But that didn't hamper his adamancy or deter the intensity that was in the boy's voice. It only made him fight harder.

"I'M NOT LEAVIN' MANA!" the boy screamed, hiccupping soon after, A small amount of weight pressed against his chest, a dampness coming from the spot in which the weight rested.

Cracking open an eye, the Clown watched as some of their friends tried pulling little Allen away, only to have the boy reel on them and savagely bite someone's hand when they went to touch him. He only released his grip when someone grabbed him from behind, holding the maddened boy in a tight embrace.

The boy struggled and wriggled in the embrace, screaming and crying off the top of his lungs. His words were so distorted and so slurred that no one could understand a word he was saying. All they could obviously understand was that Allen was heavy in grief and did not want to leave his clearly dead father.

_'Alright, that's enough…'_ thought Mana as he slowly and cautiously sat up, earning surprised gasps all around. Coughing dryly, he wiped his chin before turning to look at Allen, who looked so elated that it seemed like he could burst any given moment. His teary eyes were bright, sparkling with happiness while his face twisted around a whole range of emotions.

Squirming out of the person's arms, he fell hard on the wagon floor, but was not at all bothered by it as his small form came shooting towards Mana. Glomping the still heavily injured Clown, the relieved boy began sobbing into his father's chest, his small frame profusely shaking. Despite his terribly aching body, Mana hugged the boy just as tight, allowing him to cry as much as he wanted.

Idly stroking the boy's back soothingly, he ignored all the comments of how it had been a miracle and instead chose to gaze at the still crying Allen. He couldn't help thinking about what he had learned, about the hints of little Allen holding a future far greater than the life he had now. His brother had said that little Allen would be the grey amidst the black and white. What exactly did that entail? Would he really be a foretold savior? Or would the power inside him turn him into something similar to what his brother had been? So many questions, so many complexities for one who's life should be rather simple.

Mana just hoped that he'd be around long enough to find the answers. Because there comes a certain easiness with certainty. And their life thus far wasn't going to be something so simplistic as carnival life. No, their lives and destinies were far larger than he'd ever suspect. It may even determine the very outcome of history for all he knew.

Whatever happens though, he would keep walking forward. Until the day he died.

* * *

_Author's Note: A thought struck me as I was writing this chapter. This story is going to probably be rather long. I'm not really sure how long, the only thing I have is a loose setting of events and an ending. But that kind of stuff usually changes for me as a story progress so who knows._

_And I know, that this is, I guess, a rather dark story. I know some of my chapters have had their dark moments. I honestly can't help, as it is, my writing has turned darker than it had been when I began writing. But, in light of all the darkness, would you want me to do a happier scene? If you would like to read a happier chapter, let me know and I will make the next chapter that kind of chapter. Though I won't guarantee that the whole chapter will be sugar and rainbows. _

_Anyways, I digress. This chapter is shorter because the previous one was so long and I wanted to give my beta a break after editing that large chapter. Please review. _


	12. Pushing back the Pain

Ch. 11

'_Carry on my wayward son_

_There'll be peace when you are done_

_Lay your weary head to rest_

_Don't you cry no more'_

_-Kansas: Carry On My Wayward Son_

It wasn't until later that night, nearing dawn, that the caravan of survivors come to a stop. Most of them were beyond exhausted, but unable to sleep due to the high levels of adrenaline that were still pumping in their veins. Those with less injury hopped off the two wagons, leaving those whose injuries were too severe to occupy the less crowded wagon space. Only a few of the women lingered to finish bandaging those who still needed to be attended to.

Mana sat propped up against one of the sides, Allen fast asleep on his right. The tired Clown watched as the boy slept, grateful that at least someone could sleep despite all that has happened. And for the fact that he wouldn't have to see something that even Mana was dreading. The one attending to his wounds was Alina, who hardly spoke a word as she went about binding all of his lacerations and abrasions, leaving his mangled leg for last.

Every now and again, he would flinch, hissing or biting his lip in order to persevere through the pain. When she got to his abdomen though, he had to grip the sides of the wagon, his gaze looking away. Because if he looked, he very well knew that he would pass out. He felt childish for being like this, so weak as to be afraid of something that wasn't even the worst part. The worst had yet to come.

"Please relax Mana, you're tensing your body too much and it's making it harder for me to properly dress your wound." Alina calmly addressed, her dark eyes looking up at his. Exhaustion pooled in her dark eyes, showing him that she was just as tired as he was, but was willing to push it aside just so that she could help him.

In seeing this, he relaxed, his teeth gnashing harder as his body began to steadily taut. He wasn't enjoying this one bit but he sure as hell wasn't going to say that aloud. If he did, then who would give the time to set his leg? He surely wasn't going to do it himself. He was sure to pass out if he did. So, like a man, he faced the pain without complaints. Though that isn't to say that he liked it.

Hoping to at least distract the Clown, Alina said, "Did you realize that what happened tonight was more or less similar to what happened in Allen's nightmare?" This grabbed Mana's attention, his mind distracted from the pain for the moment. Thinking about it a little more, he came to the conclusion that she was right. What had happened tonight played out almost exactly like how it had been described. Everything from that one boy's nightmare practically came true, at least the whole fire part.

"But how…" mumbled Mana, a look of perplexity on his face. The gypsy merely shook her head as she finished bandaging his abdomen.

"I honestly don't know, Mana. But do you realize what I was trying to say earlier? That he's special in some way?" she asked, avoiding his gaze purposely. She wasn't too keen on being the center of his rare outbursts of rage again.

Mana stiffened at the remark, the previous spat they had had stirring up in his memory. He hadn't been too particularly proud of how he had acted, and now, only to find that he really should've heard the gypsy out, he felt even more ashamed. How could he have been so bull-headed during a time he really should've been listening? Now he really felt ashamed for his behavior.

"I'm sorry Alina, I shouldn't have gotten so defensive back then. I really should've listened to you." Mana apologized, the gypsy brushing the apology away. The look of regret on the Clown's face was apology enough. She knew that he really hadn't meant it.

"It's alright Mana, you were only being a father who wants what's best for his son. I understand that." She said while studying his mangled leg, gingerly caressing it every now and again. The man had his leg broken in at least two places. But thankfully, they seemed to be clean breaks. Then again, she was no doctor.

The Clown was too deep in thought to fully realize that she was touching his injured leg. He was too distracted to care. Collecting his thoughts, he slowly asked, "So…what was it that you were trying to tell me about Allen? You know…before I blew up on you." Alina took a steady breath before shifting her gaze back up to her friend. A look of questioning showed in his soft eyes, suggesting that he truly wanted to know what it had been that she had tried to tell him.

Maybe now he was ready to listen.

"I was trying to say that…that boy over there isn't destined to be the person you envision he will be," she said. "He's something much more. I don't know how to explain it but one of the reasons why he has such a future that I cannot easily predict or even see starts with that left arm."

She waited for him to say something, anything. To object, yell, scream, or even cry. But he did none of those things. All he did was stare at her, a look of understanding melding his features. He looked entirely calm, his face devoid of any expressible emotion. It was as if he had been expecting something like this. And if he had, then why had he been so defiant to listen to her words earlier?

"Is he ready?"

The question snapped her out of her thoughts as she turned to see Matthew clambering onto the wagon along with a few others, a bottle in his hands. Mana arched an eyebrow at the group, a sinking feeling entering the pit of his stomach as he turned back to Alina. Slowly, he asked her, "What are you guys doing?" He dreaded the answer he knew would be given to him, color draining from his face steadily at the mere thought. Oh hell no…

"Mana, we need to set your leg first before we can actually splint it. We're nowhere near a town for a doctor to do it properly so I'm going to have to do it myself. We don't want to wait for the next town to come along. It might get infected or begin to mend itself un-properly if we do. At least this way it can begin to heal the right way." Bell replied, taking Alina's place as the gypsy went to move the sleeping Allen off to the side.

All the Clown go do was watch as they moved his body around so that he was now lying flat on his back on the smooth wagon floor. He felt a lump form in his throat as someone ripped off what was left of his left pant leg. Sweat began forming on his forehead, beads of it sliding down his temple as Matthew powered some liquid on his leg, which he now realized was some kind of liquor. His stress levels only rose as he watched people begin pinning him to the floor of the wagon, their hands grasping his arms, his shoulders and his other leg tightly.

He could see Christian to his left, pinning down his left arm as best as he could, which wasn't much. The old man was injured almost just as bad as he was, if not more, yet he still helped. The elderly ringleader was truly a kind man, someone Mana strived everyday to be. Roy was beside Christian, helping the older man keep his left arm firmly pinned while he kept his left shoulder down. Alina had his right arm, her nails unintentionally kneading into his arm nervously. She probably didn't want to watch this unfold, but knew that they were going to need some help restraining him.

But it wasn't like Mana wanted to be here either.

To his surprise and utter amazement, Cosimo was there beside her, pinning his right leg down. He avoided any possible eye-contact, his eyes focused on the floor boards of the wagon. He looked a little worse for wear himself, one of his arms bandaged tightly and placed in a makeshift sling. Despite this though, he was pinning Mana's leg down just as forcefully as everyone else, his handicap in the situation going otherwise unnoticed. Mana had to admit, he couldn't have felt less distain for this one man at this very moment. It was like their previous vendetta for each other was gone, melted away by the night's unforgettable event.

He honest to God hoped it didn't last long.

Matthew held down his right shoulder, his eyes focused on Mana's face. When he had grabbed the Clown's attention, a smile appeared on his face. Lifting up his other hand, he showed Mana the liquor bottle he had brought in for this particular moment, asking, "Want some?" It was an innocent question, one that made Mana crack a smile. What kind of question was that? The boy should know by now that he wasn't one for alcohol. Though, given the current circumstances, he might want to change that right away.

"Alright Mana, on the count of three, I'm going to try to set your leg in place. Just try to relax for me, it'll make things easier if you do," Bell instructed, her hands hovering over one of the two breaks. "One. Two. Three!"

A chilling snap filled the air, followed by the boisterous screams of Mana. As soon as Bell had pulled it into place, he had began struggling, his back arching as his screams filled the air. Everyone keeping him pinned struggled to keep his movements limited, all of them throwing more of their own weight down in an attempt to better restrain him. He fought their hold, his screams only elevating when Bell snapped the other break into place. As she did this, Matthew began pouring some of the liquor down Mana's throat, in hopes that the alcohol would dull some of the pain for the poor Clown.

Bell then began splinting the leg, first bandaging it up before placing two wooden planks on either side of his leg. Using some cloth taken from a torn and ripped shirt, she went on to binding the two planks to his leg so that they stayed on his leg securely. When she had moved her hands away from his leg, Mana collapsed back down, his chest rising up and down rapidly as he struggled to calm his racing heart.

He was vaguely aware of everyone else as they drew away slowly, everyone breathing a sigh of relief that this was all over. Hopefully the Clown's leg would begin to mend properly and without any fuss. The last thing he needed right now was having his own leg sawed off due to infection. The smell of perspiration mixed with alcohol filled his nose, making him feel all the more woozier. His head was spinning, and all he seemed to able to comprehend was that big, silver eyes were staring into his own.

Wait, silver eyes…

"Allen…what are you doing up? It's way past your bedtime…" he croaked, the little boy that was staring at him blinking owlishly.

The boy didn't say anything, simply crawling over to the Clown's side and gently setting himself down beside him, his head rubbing against the side of his arm. The warmth Allen brought him eased the tension in him, allowing him to relax a little. Taking in slow, deep breaths, he soon passed out into sleep, escaping this world once more and drifting off into the dream world. At least there he could escape his pain.

But just with the knowledge that his son was beside him, lending him warmth and support, was comfort enough.

**DGMDGMDGM**

When Mana came to, bright sunlight hit his eyes, blurring his vision. Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes as he slowly sat up, the weight of his left leg reminding him of the events that had happened last night. He had thought it all to be a dream, really a twisted nightmare, and had hoped for that to be so but his broken leg was proof enough that it hadn't been. He knew it would never be the same again. It would forever serve as a constant reminder of the events that had happened yesterday night.

Rubbing the back of his throbbing head, he gave a tired sigh before realizing that he was all alone. Panic spiking, he moved as best as he could towards the edge of the wagon, maneuvering around with difficulty. Gripping the edge, he began dragging himself along the side, his eyes set on the canvas opening just a few feet away. Though it was painstakingly slow, he eventually made it to the edge, peeling back the canvas flap more so that he could see outside.

Peering outside, he discovered that they were on some kind dirt road that led to somewhere, probably to a place he was unfamiliar with. A cold breeze brushed his cheeks, only reminding him that winter was drawing ever nearer and any day now, it could begin snowing. Hopefully they could reach some kind of town before that happened.

Shaking such thoughts aside, he continued searching for the others, eventually spotting them all standing on a hill not too terribly far off. They all stood there, surrounding something that Mana couldn't quite make out. Some of them were crying, mostly the women, others keeping their heads bowed. Noticing this only made the Clown even more anxious. What had happened? Who had they lost? What was going on?

All these thoughts aggravated Mana to no end. He couldn't have been more annoyed over having a broken leg than he was now. He desperately wished to go and see what was transpiring, to be a part of whatever it was they were doing, even if it was something dreadful. He wasn't too fond about being restricted to only this wagon. Especially when he was all alone.

He sat there for the better part of 5 minutes before his friends began descending from the hilltop. It was then that he spotted Allen, who was walking stiffly towards the wagon he occupied, a veil of bangs obscuring his eyes from the Clown's view. The child did not say a word to anyone as he made his way forward. All he did was wordlessly make his way to Mana, silently clambering into the wagon and taking a seat on the edge beside Mana. His gaze was locked forward, his hands resting in his lap.

After a few moments, the wagon lurched forward, the two wagons sticking to a slow pace as the moved forward. They were moving at a pace that could be easily followed by foot, ergo why some of the group was merely walking. Mana took a moment to study all their faces, noticing the bouts of sorrow that was written in each of their faces. It was painstakingly obvious that someone had perished. The question now was, who?

"Chris'an's gone, Mana." Allen mumbled, his gaze still focused on the steadily receding hilltop.

Mana's throat constricted at the words, his eyes watering as he looked up at the hill where the old man had been buried. He had just seen the elderly gentleman not hours earlier. Sure, he had looked pretty bad, but this was Christian we were talking about. The man knew how to cheat death. He should've done it again this time around, lasting long enough to make an epic tale about the events that had transpired last night. All that he could think of that could explain this turn of events was that it was the experienced ring-leader's time to go.

"Oh Allen, I'm so sorry…" Mana said as he wrapped an arm around the boy, pulling him close to his side. Allen made no visible sign that he noticed, his eyes still glued to the hill that was slowly fading into the distance.

Noticing that Allen hadn't reacted outside of the occasional blink, Mana pulled away, his worry filled eyes staring down at the little boy sitting beside him. The boy wasn't crying, wasn't frowning, just…gazing off into the distance with a blank face. This, admittedly, frightened Mana. He couldn't help thinking that maybe Allen was in a state of shock or maybe he was scarred for life. He wouldn't put it past him if he was. This would've scarred anyone, and he was almost certain that the events of last night had indeed left a mark on himself.

"Allen?" he mumbled, studying the boy's blank face carefully.

The boy would not speak a word, shutting himself off from everything around him. It certainly wasn't good, but it was all he could do to keep himself from feeling all the sorrow and pain. And in doing so, he was keeping himself from crying. But at this point, he didn't think he had it in him to cry. All of his thoughts were centered around this and all the pain that was dying to be let in. Was this what it was like to lose someone you cared about very much? If it was, then he didn't want to feel it ever again, didn't want to have to shut himself off like this again.

He didn't want to ever have this amount of pain brush him again.

After awhile, when the silence between them had sunken in, Allen said, "I don't wanna be sad anymo, Mana. I don't…" Tears silently but suddenly slid down his cheeks, his voice breaking for a moment as he took in a shaky breath. Balling a hand into a fist, he hastily wiped his cheeks before turning to Mana, tears still sliding down his face. "I don't wanna lose you too, Mana."

The Clown was taken aback, surprise registering on his face before his features soften. Draping his arm across the boy's shoulders once more, he pulled him close. Quietly, he murmured, "I'm not going anywhere, Allen. Besides we'll travel this earth together, you and me as father and son. Because we have to keep walking. We can't stop or go back. We must keep walking, no matter what happens to either one of us. And no matter what happens, I'll always be with you. Remember that Allen."

Allen nodded, sniffing once as his tears began drying up. He leaned against his father's side, both of their gazes shifting back to the bleak scenery that encompassed the traveling survivors. Silently, they watched as light speckles of powered snow began raining from the grey blue sky.

* * *

_Author's Note: I am super sorry that this took so long to update! The number one reason was because school was and still is taking up most of my time. And because I wasn't sure how to approach this chapter. I apologize if this chapter seemed rushed to you and for the fact that it's sort of short in comparison to my other chapters. I promise you, the next chapter will be better and probably longer. Please hang on until then. Thanks!_


	13. Cool of Snow, Warmth of Flame

Ch. 12

'_First thing I remember was askin' papa, "Why?"_

_For there were many things I didn't know_

_And daddy always smiled_

_Took me by the hand, sayin',_

"_Someday you'll understand"_

_-Creedence Clearwater Revival: Someday Never Comes_

3 years later

Snow trickled from the heavens gently, creating an uneven blanket of powder as it cascaded to the ground. A boy about the age of eight could be seen perusing through the field of white snow, walking upon a path that was being made for him by the man which he followed. The man, a gentleman wearing a worn out suit and equally worn out top hat, bore a cane that helped steady his movements to some degree, his left leg limpid in movement. The boy himself bore a jacket with checkered patterns of blacks and whites, and oven-mitten covering his left hand.

It had turned out that the boy's hand, already deformed as it was, would stiffen in colder temperatures, preventing what little movement he had been able to obtain over the years from constant training and exercises. Simple gloves would not suffice in this kind of weather. So they were forced to utilize a thick, cushiony oven-mitt as a means of both hiding his deformed hand and keeping that hand as warm as possible.

The boy shook his hair free of the speckles of snow that had drifted onto his brunette locks. A smile came onto his pale face as he watched the snow rain down, his breath coming out in bursts of fogged mist. He always enjoyed this time of year, despite the fact that it would lock up the muscles in his entire left arm. Then again, he'd been used to having his left arm incapable of functional movement so this wasn't too terribly bad.

"How much longer Mana?" the boy called, eager to get back to camp.

The Clown gave a light chuckle as he looked over his shoulder, a gentle smile on his face as he replied, "Not long now Allen, we'll be there before you know it." The boy gave a sigh before continuing on in silence, his arms swaying as he trudged along. He was growing tired of all this walking, his little legs only capable of walking for so long. And besides, all of this walking was boring.

So with his boredom, he began thinking up ways to relieve said boredom. And with it, an idea was born.

Meanwhile, Mana continued on his way, oblivious to what it was that Allen was doing or even for the fact that the boy had stopped. But it didn't take him long to realize this, having realized that he was not hearing the boy's footsteps stomping behind him. Stopping himself, Mana gave a tired sigh before saying as he turned around, "Allen, I thought I told you—"

His words were suddenly cut off when a hard snowball came crashing into his forehead, the impact causing his hat to be knocked away. His entire body stiffened as the snowball shattered away into various sized clumps, having not been prepared for such a harsh impact. But he had learned from his own childhood that having a snowball thrown at your face wasn't exactly fun. Contrary to one's belief, getting hit by a snowball wasn't actually all that soft. It kind of hurt a little.

Wiping away what was left of the snow on his face, a disgruntled look came upon the Clown's face as he stared at the little boy who had thrown the powdery ball of snow. The boy gave a sheepish smile, snow already scooped in-between his hands, waiting to become a dignified snowball. Slowly, as if realizing that snow was still in his gloved hands, Allen rid himself of the snow, dropping it all simultaneously to the ground. As he did this though, Mana scooped up a handful of his own, proceeding to throw the ball of snow while the boy wasn't looking.

To say Allen didn't know it was coming would've been an understatement. As soon as he looked up, only to see a ball of snow come shooting towards him, his silver eyes went wide before falling shut, hoping to brace himself for most of the impact. But being one of a small stature, the impact of the snowball sent him falling back. Slightly surprised that he had been knocked off his feet, Allen sat up with narrowed eyes, a devious smile slowly creeping onto his pale face.

Oh, it was on now.

Snowballs soon began flying through the air as both Allen and Mana started their mock battle, with snowballs as their choice of weapons. The jubilant cries belonging to both father and son filled the air as they continued to wage war with one another, neither side wishing to give into the other anytime soon. Both Mana and Allen were using every bit of cover they could possibly find, ducking and sliding behind trees in order to dodge incoming snowballs.

As yet another snowball slammed into the back of his coat when he had had his back turned, Mana couldn't help but broaden his smile as he clamped his hands together to form his own snowball, a part of him reminiscing the times he had done this as a boy with his younger brother. Of course, most of the time they had gone at it like madmen, trying to injure the other in any possible way they could. But those snowball fights had been rather fun despite their truly malicious intent and had imprinted fond memories of the past into his head.

"Prepare to die!" Allen cried as he threw his 20th snowball at Mana, the sphere of chilling snow aimed at his head.

Alerted by the boy's cocky words, Mana found that he had just about enough time to throw his snowball before he had to dodge or duck. Throwing the ball of snow away from him like it was some kind of ticking time bomb, he was ashamed of the triumphant smirk that came onto his face as the snowball smashed into the boy's chest, which sent him falling back and wiped the smile that had once been there clean off his face.

"Ha!" cried Mana as a stream of laughter followed, unable to control himself at the sight of a sour-faced Allen sitting in the snow with his arms cross across his small chest, speckles of snow dying his hair white, and his hair sticking up places that it wouldn't normally under different circumstances. The sight was just hysterical. It reminded him of his brother.

And of course that's when the disorienting mix-correlation between the two would happen.

He had come to learn that whenever he so much as thought of his deceased brother while little Allen was near him, his mind would succumb to this trance like state where his brother's child would actually become his brother. It had started out very slow and very minute, where such occurrences only happened if he thought of his brother consistently and profusely. But then, as time dragged on, the mere thought of his brother would disorient him and send him back into the past, leading him to a place where he would relive some of his fondest memories that involved his little brother.

Of course, when no one had been able to explain what it was that was happening to him, he would try his hardest not to have it happen or, if it did, let it consume him but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. Little Allen looked so impeccably like his little brother sometimes that it was almost unbearable. But then of course he would remind himself of the time when such an incident had occurred and he had nearly scared the poor boy half to death those few years ago. That would remind him that he couldn't enjoy those instances of miscorrelation and would help ease him back into the present instead of the past.

But still, it was steadily getting increasing harder to push past those episodes. Especially when he was having trouble distinguishing what was past and what was present.

This time around, though, he didn't have any trouble distinguishing the two from each other or even really succumb to the memory because he was suddenly snapped out of the reverie when a clump of snow came unexpectedly falling on top of him. The accumulated weight of the snow caused his body to crumple to the floor, his body unable to sustain such an amount of snow descending down upon him.

Thoughts of his brother aside, Mana struggled to claw his way free, the process taking a good handful of a couple seconds before he managed to push his head free. Of course, that held little satisfaction when most of his body was still covered in a bed of snow. Though this seemed to satisfy and amuse Allen immensely. In fact, the boy was so amused, he was rolling around with uncontainable laughter, his arms hugging his hurting sides. Mana, on the other hand, didn't find this at all to be very amusing.

"Alright, you've had your laughs. Now help me out." Grumbled Mana, a sour look on his face as he remained there, immersed from the neck down in snow. To the Clown's chagrin, the boy continued his laughing fit, his small frame madly rolling in the snow. Mana struggled hard not to laugh as well, his bottom lip quivering as he bit it back. But eventually it began too much for him to fight and soon, he too was laughing.

He wasn't too sure how long their laughter lasted, but as soon as it ended, he was back to his soured mood. Ok, he was getting sick of just sitting there with most of his body covered by a bank of snow that had, from what he could gather, fallen from the tree he had been standing under. He really wanted to get out before something bad were to happen, like, catching frost bite or something equally as bad. So, turning his head back to Allen he said, "Allen, would you mind getting me out of here now?"

"Alright!" he said cheerfully. Getting up, he made his way to the Clown and carefully, began digging his body out.

The entire process took a good half hour before Mana was finally free. At which point, his left leg had developed a dull ache from the cold, momentary relief flourishing only when his body had been freed from the confounded snow. Pushing the pain of his leg off to the back of his mind, Mana carefully got to his feet, his hand going straight for the tree's trunk as a means of steadying himself as he shook the snow free from his body. Watching Mana, a smile erupted on Allen's face as he mimicked the Clown's movements, first shaking his own body free of what was left of the snow on his body before hobbling over to where Mana's cane was like Mana was.

Plucking the sturdy walking stick up off the ground, he then went for his top hat, which was half submerged in some of the snow that had been tossed around while Allen had been digging him free. As he bent down to get it, out of the corner of his eye he saw Allen doing the very same thing, only, there was only snow and no hat. At first, he thought it to be cute, but when it persisted, it soon grew to be an annoyance. Not only was the boy mimicking his every move, but he was exaggerating it as well. And it crossed the line as soon as Allen began to pretend his own leg was lame by dragging it along the snow.

"Hey," he warned as he turned his torso around, sending his cane knocking the boy gently upside the head. This effectively caught his attention, his eyes going wide as he stared at Mana. "Knock it off."

Allen nodded his head before his hand went up to rub the throbbing spot that had been unfortunate enough to take the hit. Admittedly, he had been thoroughly surprised, having never expected Mana to do such a thing. Not that he was bothered by it, he just never thought his father had it in him. And it wasn't like it was even that hard. It just caught him by surprise. "You coming, Allen?" Said boy blinked once before realizing that Mana was already a few feet away. Nodding his head despite the fact that Mana wasn't even looking, little Allen bounded forward, his spurt of speed quickly sending him to where Mana was making his way steadily forward.

When he reached him, the boy grasped him by his free hand and the two began walking side by side as father and son.

**DGMDGMDGM**

Mana and Allen sat upon the ground for a short break once they had made it into town, the two of them watching silently as everyone else went about their business, going unnoticed. Mana was content in sitting there without a care in the world, but Allen was in deep thought as he watched some of the town's children went about being fun and fancy free. More importantly, he was staring at their covered arms. Were they hiding anything under their sleeves just like he was? Or were they fortunate enough to not have to deal with something like a crippled limb?

"Mana," the boy said, gaining the Clown's attention. "Am I the only one who was born like this?" As he asked this, he avoided his father's gaze and took interest in a nearby stick that he soon grasped.

Mana froze at the question. He had been dreading the inevitability of something like this happening, dreading that he would have to touch such a delicate subject. He didn't want to upset the boy after all. But he still had to be honest with him. "I'm sure there are others just as special as you out there, wondering the same thing." And he honestly believed that. This world was vast and it would almost seem unlikely that there wasn't at least one person out there that didn't suffer the same affliction as the boy beside him did. There had to be others. There just had to.

Allen seemed to take his words some thought as he continued about making shapes in the snow. As he did this he replied, "Was this given to me as a punishment? Is having this arm my sin—"

"Your arm is not a sin, Allen. It is a gift and it's something that God gave you. I don't know what he has in mind by giving you it, but there has to be a reason because there's always a reason," he said sternly, not too terribly fond of how such a young boy was already worrying about possible sins. "Besides, you're a child, you shouldn't have any sins, let alone worry about them."

"Do you have sins, Mana?" Allen asked innocently, only making the Clown feel even more uncomfortable. Who had taught him the concept of sins anyway? The boy was only 8 years old!

Chuckling nervously as he rubbed the back of his neck, he turned to the boy and said, "I'd be lying if I told you I didn't. As to whether you should know what they are or not, that one's debatable." This seemed to relieve Allen a little, his features relaxing for just a moment before worry returned. Stopping his drawing, he turned to Mana and feverishly asked, "Won't you go to Hell!"

"Allen Grayson Walker!" Mana rebuked admonishingly. Upon seeing the boy flinch, he relaxed and his features steadily became softer. "Who's been filling your head with all of this?"

"Bell…" he mumbled solemnly, avoiding the Clown's gaze.

"And was she the one that had called your arm a sin?" he asked, not thoroughly convinced that such a gentle and kind woman would say such a thing to a young boy. And obviously she hadn't because a startled and shocked expression melded onto his features.

"No! I was wondering if it was, no one said it. I-I just asked her about all that because I was curious. And she always has that bible in her tent so I figured she'd know more than you." He explained, now back to drawing shapes in the snow.

The conversation ended after that, silence erupting between them once more. But it was at that time that Mana felt it was time that they continued on. So, being as careful as he could be, he delicately pushed himself back up on his feet and took a moment to steady himself before turning his gaze down to Allen. And his eyebrows knitted together at the sight of what the boy had been tracing in the snow. "Allen, what are you drawing?" he asked slowly, memories of the not so distant past surfacing at the sight of the strangely beautiful symbols.

"Shapes." He replied simply as he got to his feet, dropping the stick. He stepped back to study his work, a smile erupting on his face. Turning to Mana, he asked, "Aren't they pretty?"

All Mana could do was give a slow nod, his face unreadable as he continued to gaze down at the familiar pattern etched in the snow. From as far as he could recollect, the pattern mirrored almost exactly the one that had been neatly scrawled onto a piece of paper, something his brother had called 'the score'. He had thought he had seen the last of it back those three years ago but I guess he was wrong.

Seizing the boy by the hand, the two continued their journey in silence, both locked in their own thoughts.

**DGMDGMDGM**

The two managed to make it back to the camp close to dusk, the mere sight of the pitched tents surrounding a shared fire a great relief to the two weary travelers. A bright smile slipped onto Allen's face as he let go of Mana's hand and rushed forward, stumbling slightly in his rush to greet all of their friends. Mana couldn't keep himself from smiling as he watched Allen greet everyone warmly, even Cosimo, despite the fact that the Clown gave him a cold stare.

Making his way over as well, a flood of renewed energy washed over him the closer he got to the roaring fire, the persistent dull ache at his left leg steadily dying away. Planting a seat on one of the logs situated around the fire pit, he gave a contented sigh as he blew into his gloved hands, rubbed them together, and then outstretched them out to the heat. Who knew how much he had been craving the warmth of an open fire.

"Any sign of them?"

Mana turned his head to see Bell standing before him, a concerned look on her face as she hugged herself. The glow of the fire on only one side of her face emphasized her impeding age, that one night those several years ago having aged her several more years than she actually was. Then again, that night had aged them all, himself included. To prove his point, he had discovered the first signs of graying hair at his temples. And he was only peeking his 40s.

He gave a shake of his head as Bell situated herself beside the worn out Clown. "It's too soon to worry. Matthew and Alina said they'd be here within the week. Maybe they just got delayed by the weather. Allen and I will check tomorrow." The older woman gave a simple nod of acceptance as she handed her friend a cup of freshly brewed tea. Thanking her, the two directed their gazes over to Allen, who was busy frolicking with some of the other children that had become a part of their troop.

It had a taken at least a good full year until what had been left of their once flourishing enterprise had been restored. It had taken a lot of recruiting and searching for capable members, some of which they had acquired simply because they had nowhere else to go, and eventually, they had managed to acquire just enough people to put together a decent performance. Plus, it gave them the chance to integrate some fresh blood into the acts. This time around, they had gained quite a few young, fool-hearty and daring performers, from contortionist to fire breathers. And some of them were merely children.

"I can't wait to see Allen's first performance," she said, her eyes focused on the giggling children as well. "It's coming up in a few weeks, right? When it's spring?"

Mana nodded his head. "He's so excited, he can hardly wait," he chuckled. "Though, I don't know who's more excited. Me or him?" Bell also chuckled at the remark. She knew just how excited the Clown beside her was to see his child essential follow him in his footsteps. "He's been practicing so hard. And he gets better and better with each passing day, it's astounding. You know he learned how to do a cartwheel in the matter of a week?" continued Mana, a youthful glint in his eyes as he turned to Bell.

"Did he now?" she asked, pretending to be oblivious to the answer when she had heard it four times already. She knew he was proud of his son and she didn't want to take it away from him. So she just played along.

"Yeah! I didn't think he could do it so quickly given the state of his left arm, but he sure proved me wrong. I couldn't even manage a cartwheel for weeks when I had started out." He gushed, going on and on about what Allen had learned and how fast he had been able to master it. And Bell listened to him intently, giving a smile or a chuckle whenever it was appropriate.

The two talked on and on into the night, the conversation shifting to several different topics as time flew by. Sometimes they'd be joined by others and sometimes it would be just the two of them. Either way, a joyful air was left in the atmosphere, contagious it was to all those that were near it, save for Cosimo of course. Everything felt the way if should've been, everything felt normal and right.

No one ever suspected the tragedy that was sure to come.

* * *

_Author's Note: I'm sorry guys, that this took so long! School is really stressful and demanding this year that I hardly have the free time to write as often as I would like. I'll still continue this though, don't get me wrong. I'm dedicated to this story!_

_This was surely a lighter toned chapter, but really it's more like the calm before the storm. I'm sure a lot of you know what's going to happen next. Or at least the general idea of what's to come next chapter. Until then, eagerly wait._


	14. You Leave Me

_It was only one hour ago_

_It was all so different then_

_There's nothing yet has really sunk in_

_Looks like it always did_

_This flesh and bone_

_It's just the way that you would tie in_

_There's no one home_

_I grieve for you_

_You leave me_

'_so hard to move on_

_Still loving what's gone_

_They say life carries on_

_Carries on and on and on_

_-Peter Gabriel: I Grieve_

The Next Day

"Why do we have to search for Matthew and Alina so early? Why can't someone else do it?" Allen asked groggily, one of his hands at his eyes as he struggled to rub the sleep away from them.

Mana merely chuckled. Allen had never been much of a morning person. "Because I volunteered us to go look. We don't know when they're coming, but it wouldn't hurt to look." He explained, only earning a grumble in response from the drowsy boy that was slugging on behind him. Walking down one of the adjoining streets, Mana kept a good eye out for any signs of his two friends, while the other would occasionally make sure Allen was still following him. Given the fact that it was still rather early, the place wasn't bustling with activity one would have normally found during the early evening as people went about their work.

But still, one could never be too careful when crossing the street.

"So Allen," Mana said, "What are you excited about more, the fact that your birthday is coming up or your first performance?"

As he asked this, he looked over his shoulder, an amused smile spreading onto his face as the boy took the question to thought. It amused him how long it took just for the boy to answer such a simple question. But hey, he couldn't exactly say which one he anticipated more: the reaction that would be on Allen's face when he discovered what his present from him would be or the immense joy the boy would feel upon performing his very first act. Either would be remarkable to experience and he was eager to go through it with his child. They were both something he wished to see.

Still pensive over this question, Allen finally threw his arms up in defeat and exclaimed, "I don't know Mana! I can't wait for both." This caused another chuckle to ripple past his throat, his smile furthering. "Neither can I." replied the Clown, earning a questionable and devious look from the young boy trailing behind him. "Whatcha get me?" asked Allen, hoping to gain a proper answer.

"It's a surprise." Answered the Clown, only causing the boy behind him to pout in dismay. He should've known he wasn't going to get a straight answer from the Clown about what he was getting for his birthday. Still, it didn't hurt to try. "Will I like it?" he asked.

"I would hope so." Evaded Mana, causing Allen's pout to turn into a scowl. So far his plan to figure out what his present was wasn't working. But he wasn't about to let it drop so easily. "Can I have a hint?"

"Allen, you're just going to have to wait until the 25th until you can get your presents. It's not that far away, just a week from now." Explained Mana, trying hard to remain calm while he continued to be bombarded by question after question. He just knew that if Allen persisted, he wouldn't be able to say no any longer. But luckily, the discussion ended at that, the boy behind him having run out of questions to ask.

Accepting defeat, Allen began struggling to entertain himself as they walked along the not so crowded street. Now that he was more or less awake, he was finding himself bored of all this walking. Of course, it occurred to him that he could start a snowball fight again but when he tried, his hands prepared to scoop up a handful of the powder snow that laid haphazardly around him, Mana said, "Don't even think about it." The scary thing about it though, was that he hadn't even looked when he had made that warning.

Dropping the clump of snow, he rushed back to his father as he continued walking forward at his subdued pace. Once reaching him, he asked awestruck, "How'd you know I was going to do that?"

"I'm your father, I know these things." Mana replied easily, Allen appearing not too thoroughly convinced. But he didn't press the matter any further.

Snorting indignantly, Allen turned his gaze off to the street, a sigh escaping his lips. Now he was back to being bored. And he didn't know how to relieve that. Of course that all changed when his stomach gave a boisterous growl, signaling that it was in need of some food. And that served to remind him that they skipped the most important meal of the day. Breakfast!

Hands wrapping around his stomach as the ache of hunger gnawed away, Allen gave a light moan before murmuring, "Mana…" Upon hearing his name being called, Mana looked over his shoulder, a questionable look coming onto his face as he awaited for the boy to continue. "I'm hungry." He added, a bashful expression coming onto his face as his stomach gave yet another growl of protest.

It was then that the Clown remembered that they had not eaten anything for breakfast this morning, and that only meant that Allen was sure to be starving. At which point, he needed to find something to feed the child. The only problem to all this was that he hadn't thought to bring any cash with him, seeing as how they usually reserved whatever they earned for one large shopping day. So he was flat out broke, save for a few bills here and there but not enough to quench the boy's voracious appetite. The only way they could settle this was if they went back to camp. And Mana was reluctant to do so.

Looking back to the road for just a moment, in slight hopes that he would somehow catch sight of his two friends, he turned back to Allen and said, "Alright, we're going back to camp so you can have your breakfast." This seemed to please the boy for a bright grin spread across his face, his hand shooting into Mana's free one before he began hastily attempting to lead him back to camp. Mana gave a chuckle over Allen's anxious antics but otherwise did not make a comment, complying with his child as best as he could with that lame leg of his.

**DGMDGMDGM**

By the time the two of them managed to retrace their steps back to camp, more of its inhabitants were up and about, most of them practicing for the upcoming show that was to be held late this afternoon. It gave the Clown some relief that Allen wouldn't be sitting all alone with nobody keeping an eye on him while he went back for another quick check.

As soon as they had caught sight of Bell, already working hard on preparing enough food for everyone present, Allen shot forward, excitement and drool on his face. He had always enjoyed her brand of cooking and, to be frank, Mana had as well. It brought him back to the times when he was a child and his own mother had made him a meal that he always unquestionably enjoyed. Even if it was something he absolutely hated to eat, he still loved it anyway and would always pretend he liked it for the sake of keeping her happy. Of course, in Allen's case, he'd eat anything and enjoyed it as well. So far, there was nothing the boy had ate that he otherwise didn't like. That's how much of a black hole the kid was.

"Yeah, food!" cried Allen as he hovered behind Bell, currently experiencing a sensory overload with all the different smells that were going on all around him. But when he reached out to grab a sausage out of a skillet, his hand was whacked away by a wooden spoon. "You have to wait like everyone else, little mister." Bell reprimanded, a sulking look coming upon Allen's face as he took a seat not too far away from where the Cook went about her work.

"Allen, come play with us!" an older, tan-skinned boy named Narein called, earning the boy's attention. Almost immediately the child brightened up, a playful grin coming onto his as he stumbled to his feet and rushed over to the group of children a little ways away and towards the older boy, who happened to be his best friend.

Mana watched as his child interacted with the other children his own age and older, amusement crossing his features at how short the boy was in comparison to all the other children. Even some of the younger ones were taller than him, if only by a few inches. But that didn't seem to bother Allen, who played with them all with indifference. Yet he was sometimes bothered by the fact that he wasn't growing as much as some of the other children were. And whenever such a qualm was risen, Mana would gently tell him that he would have a growth spurt when he least expected. And then all would be right with the world.

Still holding a smile on his face, Mana turned to his friend and said, "Bell, would you keep an eye on Allen for me? I'm going to head back into town for about an hour or so. It won't take long."

"Would you like me to save you some food for when you get back?"

"No, it's alright. Thank you for the offer though Bell." He politely declined, a gentle smile on his face as he readjusted his scarf and hat. The Cook turned to her friend, a concerned look on her face, one that was subdued by the Clown's ever present smile.

"Well…don't stay out there for too long. You're leg will become stiff if you stay out in the cold for too long." She warned purely out of concern. The last time Mana had stayed out in the cold for too long, his left leg had locked up and the muscles had stiffened, preventing him from properly walking for at least a day.

"Will do."

With a polite dip of his hat he was off, not thinking much about what was to come from this decision to go out on his own. But it wasn't like he could see into the future and even if he could, there was probably no way around. You can't fight fate after all.

For a while, Allen hadn't noticed that Mana was absent, so immersed he was in playing with the other children. But when it came time to get his food, just when he was about to chow down, he realized that the Clown was nowhere to be found. Pausing in mid-bite, he looked around the group sitting around the fire in hopes that maybe he had just missed him among the crowd. But unfortunately, Mana was still nowhere to be found.

Mindlessly chewing and swallowing, he soon turned to Bell—who had been sitting beside him—and asked, "Where's Mana?" The Cook turned to the young boy beside her, a gentle smile on her face upon seeing the genuine concern in the boy's face. "He went into town for a little while. He shouldn't be gone for too long sweetie." She said, earning a look of understanding upon the boy's face. But before he could say anything else, a voice from the distance suddenly cut in on their simple conversation.

"Hey! Something sure smells good!"

The entire troupe turned to see Matthew leading his horse forward, Alina doing the same with her own. All of the children, Allen included, charged forward, all of them swarming the pair as they made their way forward. The adults rose to their feet, smiles on all of their faces as the duo made their way closer to the makeshift camp. The children were continuously circling the pair, asking them question after question about their trip around the entire European continent and some parts of Asia. The entire trip took a good year and a half the very least to traverse such a distance simply by horseback and boat. But it was all for good intentions, seeing as how it was necessary to map out their performance route so that they may know where exactly they needed to go.

This was surely a joyous moment, seeing as how their ever growing family was now, for the moment, complete. Well, almost complete. There was still one member missing from their ever growing family. Now wrapped in the gypsy's arms, Allen returned the embrace fiercely as he asked, "Did you have fun out there Alina?"

"Oh it was nice for while, but it gets old when you've got no one else but this bimbo to talk to." She said as she gestured out to the acrobat beside her. Matthew made a face suggesting hurt as he paused in his rough housing with some of the boys. "I'm hurt, Alina. I thought I made amazing company!"

The gypsy simply rolled her eyes before she turned to the little boy beside her. "I'm just glad to be home with my family." Giving a blissful sigh, she shifted her gaze all through her friends, hoping to find the face of one of her dearest friends, only to find him missing. Sadden by this fact, she looked down to Allen as she asked, "Where's Mana, Allen?"

As if suddenly remembering the Clown, Allen perked up and said, "Oh, he's town. Don't worry, I'll go get him!" His declaration was made proudly and full of certainty, something that he would not be easily dissuaded from. The cocky grin made Alina smile but she knew that it wouldn't be wise to let the boy go into town on his own. "Why don't we go look for him together? How about that?" This didn't settle well with the young lad, who stubbornly retorted, "No, I can do this! I'm bigger now, I don't need any help!"

To further his point, he darted off before anyone could have a say in the matter, desperate to show everyone that he could do it without anyone's help. Both Alina and Bell called out for him to stop, but the boy would not heed their words, eager to prove himself to them all. Matthew watched the scene fold out, his gaze turning to the two women before he said, "Don't worry, I'll catch up to him!" Assuring them with a charismatic smile, he rushed off, following Allen's path into town.

**DGMDGMDGM**

In town, Mana found himself walking down the market, his eyes scanning through the various shops until they fell upon what he was looking for. A gentle smile spreading across his face, he stood in front of the glass panel and watched as little terriers of various breeds scuffled. Fond memories of his deceased terrier Tramp came to mind as he watched the young pups play roughly with one another, memories that he would forever cherish for as long as he lived. But now it was time to move on and acquire another dog that could possibly fill the gaping hole inside his heart that Tramp had once occupied. But no dog could ever truly replace him.

Thoughts of Tramp aside, he thought about which pup he should choose. The pup wouldn't be for himself after all, it would be Allen's. That's right, he was going to give the boy a pup for his upcoming birthday as a gift. He had been saving his own, personal money for quite some time and now, with Allen's birthday approaching, he figured he might as well spend it on getting the boy an extravagant gift. And what better way to achieve that then by giving him his very own dog.

Of course, he couldn't purchase it right away, for fear of Allen discovering the pup before it was time, but he was worried about losing his pick. He had previously made arrangements with the shop owner to pick up his choice pup the day before his son's birthday, which was Christmas Eve. Besides, it wasn't like anyone was eager to buy the runt of the litter, so it was safe to assume that the pup was already his, even if he hadn't already bargained with the shop owner for the beast. But it was always nice to pass by and see the little terrier in action.

From what he had seen of the little guy, he could tell that he was smart dog, one that would be able to easily learn a few tricks. And also proved to be mischievous, always nipping at his littermates ears and tails whenever they weren't paying any attention to him. This habit may prove to be an annoyance more than anything but he knew that Allen would positively adore the behavior. He was positive the boy would love his pup, even if he proved to be wholly unlike Tramp.

He just couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he presented the pup to him.

"Mana!"

Upon hearing the sound of his own name being called, Mana turned towards the sound and was thoroughly surprised to find Allen on the other side of the street. This brought about worry because there was no one else with him. He was just standing there, looking smug and proud of himself. It simply baffled him. "Allen, what are you doing here?"

The boy didn't reply, simply giving him a smile before he rushed out un-hesitantly out into the middle of the street, paying no attention to the oncoming traffic. For a moment all Mana could do was stare at the boy wide-eyed, his heart jumping to his throat as the child darted out into the road. At first, he thought Allen would make it, seeing as how there wasn't any immediate danger. But he was soon proven wrong.

Out of nowhere, a spooked horse pulling a cart surged forward, startled by a boisterous bang that had erupted from a firework that had accidentally went off rather unexpectedly. Startled by this strange and sudden sound, the horse could do nothing but follow its natural instinct and flee from said foreign noise. The only problem to all this was that the beast's path was set for where Allen stood, who had stopped upon hearing the loud bang.

Upon hearing the shriek of the horse, Allen turned to the creature stampeding towards him, unwilling to stop. His eyes had grown wide at the spectacle, his little frame trembling slightly as he struggled to break free from his fear. Mana, on the other hand, was using it to his advantage. Adrenaline kicked in as his fear spiked, carelessly discarding his own safety as he dropped his cane and rushed forward, all the while shouting the child's name which proved useless in the long run. His eyes were trained solely on the boy as he rushed as fast as he could towards him, hoping to somehow beat the charging horse.

Everything had felt as if it had fallen into slow motion as Mana finally reached Allen, hands grabbing a hold of the back of the boy's vest and sending him flying back to the side in which he had been. But there was no time for himself to escape, his leg suddenly becoming stiff before giving out on him, sending him down into a knelt position as he hissed in pain. And before he knew it, the horse was baring down on him, knocking him forcefully down onto his stomach.

He couldn't even muster a cry or scream as the horse's hooves pounded against his body, the cart's wheels following soon after. Every second felt like an hour as the cart continued to roll against his body, the wheels that kept him pinned to the ground swerving painfully as the horse stumbled and swayed, soon to crash to the ground once it had finally cleared him.

Relief flooded him for the briefest moment due to the release of pressure, but it only lasted until he gained this chilling feeling that he was broken inside. And that there was no way he could get up.

Sitting sprawled on the pavement, all Allen could do was stare in shock as his face drained of all color it once had. His eyes were still large, pupils dilated as he continued to stare at Mana's crumpled form. He had done this. If he hadn't insisted that he could do this on his own and rushed off in the manner in which he had, then none of this would've happened. Mana wouldn't be lying on the ground like that if it hadn't been for him.

It was all his fault.

It was at the moment that Matthew arrived, his face still filled with charisma and merry that was soon wiped clean off at the sight of Mana strewed out in the middle of the road. Shock meddled onto his features as he ran forward, skidding to a stop beside his fallen friend. Chest rising and falling rapidly, a hand went up to his mouth at the sight of darkening bruises, torn clothes, and swollen limbs. The sight was truly heart-stopping, both his throat and chest tightening because of this. But he was completely taken aback when his older friend turned his head slightly so that one of his pain-glazed eyes was staring right into his own.

For a moment they just stared at each other, Matthew frozen under the glazed stare that was being given to him, such a thing sending shivers down his spine, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. It wasn't until Mana's mouth began to move did he finally snap out of it, if only a portion of him. At first, he couldn't understand what the Clown was trying to convey to him; his mouth was indeed moving but no words were coming out. It took the Clown a moment though to catch his voice and even when he did, it was a hoarse croak. "G-Go…get…h-help…" he gasped, soon to let his head press back down against the cool pavement floor.

Knocked to his senses, Matthew tripped back in his haste to get to his feet, falling back on his back before he managed to scramble to his feet. Without so much as a second glance, he ran off, back to their camp to get help. Meanwhile, Allen remained sitting on the curb, eyes not leaving Mana's body as it remained sprawled out on the road. Slowly though, as if in a dreamlike state, he rose to his feet and carefully began walking over to the Clown as he laid there.

As he fell to his hands and knees, his eyes began filling with unbridled fear while he stared down at the paling Clown. For a moment he just stared, for it was all he could do as innocent bystanders began accumulating on both sides of the street, curious to see what had happened, all of whom were shocked by the spectacle. Though all were surprised and grim, none would so much as lend a hand in this tragic scene, preferring to gawk rather than help. Which infuriated Allen to no end, causing him to send dirty looks to all those who were nearby but he dare not leave Mana's side lest something devastating were to happen.

Ignoring their whispered and murmured comments, Allen turned back to Mana and watched as sweat began to coat his face. Pain was evident in the broken man's face, his face contorting with every breath he took, each inhale sending unbearable pain both inside and outside his body. Even if help came, he could hardly move. He just felt so…broken.

"Everything's going to be ok, Mana. Matthew will get help and then you'll get better." Reassured the boy, idly stroking the man's sweaty brow in an attempt to distract himself from the blanched look on Mana's face. If he focused on something else for a while, then maybe this entire situation won't feel as real. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was all just his imagination.

At least, that's what he would like to think.

Once again, seconds felt like hours, time moving painfully slow. Mana could tell that his time was drawing to an end, he could just feel it. It was impending, drawing nearer and nearer until there was no way he could deny it. He could sense that he didn't have much time left and he needed to spend as much time as he could with his son.

He opened his mouth to speak, only to find that he couldn't, his voice just as unattainable as it had been the first time he had tried to speak. It was there, he just couldn't reach it. Instead, a choked sob escaped his lips, his eyes becoming blurred and unfocused soon after. He berated himself for appearing so weak, so fragile. He needed to stay strong, and not just for himself but for Allen as well. Allen stiffened as he seized in stroking the man's brow, his face twisting in panic. "Mana, you have to relax. Help is coming, just…try to relax." Suggested the panicked boy, his voice breaking half way through his words.

In his distraught state, Allen switched to stroking Mana's hair, trying to soothe them both with this simple gesture. But it failed to calm either of them down, Mana's annoyance only rising because of it. Weakly, he swatted the hand away, ignoring how shattered he felt inside. Attempting once more at speech, he managed a feeble cough before words finally came, his own pathetic voice disgusting himself. "Allen…I don't have much time left…"

"Don't talk like that Mana, you-you're going to be alright, you have to be!" interrupted Allen, not liking the sound of these words at all.

Mana gave a tired sigh, his eyelids feeling strangely heavy despite the fact that he had felt so awake when this had happened. When he had been hit, everything had been intensified, his senses having become hypersensitive. But now…now he was beginning to slow down as well as shut down, everything steadily coming to a distinct halt. I guess that's what happens when you're dying.

It was coming all too soon and he didn't like it at all. He hadn't been able to tell Allen the truth about his past, about all the things he had kept from him. He'd never see what he would look like when he grew up. He wouldn't be able to do any of the things he had planned when Allen was old enough. He wouldn't even see him make his very first performance as a clown.

He would never see the boy become the man he was destined to be.

And that thought freed the tears from his eyes.

Unable to keep up the barrier keeping his fear and pain away from Allen, he decided to just tear it all down. So what if he was a little scared? It was natural to feel a little frightened about death, right? At least, he hoped so.

Allen had returned to being frantic, his face paling even further as he struggled to keep Mana anchored to this world. "Mana…" he moaned, struggling to remain calm despite the fact that it was painfully evident that he wasn't. Every now and again he'd look up in hopes of spotting someone he knew but every time he was greeted with the faces of staring strangers who couldn't give a damn about the fate of his father. They rather stand on the side lines and watch instead of helping him and possibly saving his life. But at this point, there was no saving the Clown. He already had two feet in the grave.

Mana opened his eyes tiredly, only managing to open them halfway as he tried to focus. But his vision was steadily growing dimmer and dimmer. And that wasn't because of the tears. "You h-have to…stay strong w-while…I'm gone. You must…l-learn how to w-walk on your own…and c-create your own path." Gasped the dying man, finding it suddenly very difficult to speak, his entire body steadily growing numb. Now he really didn't have much time left.

"I can't! Mana, I…" protested Allen, his voice high-pitched from all the grief that was slowly piling up on his shoulders. But Mana really didn't want to hear it. The words were just too painful and made him feel dreadfully guilty.

"Allen, listen to me," he said, his voice heavy with fatigue as he pushed his body to move, only managing to grip his son's arm in a pathetic hold. "No m-matter what h-happens, never stop!"

"Don't talk like that!" shrieked the child, still under the forced belief that everything was going to be alright. To the boy's horror though, Mana continued, "N-Never stop, always keep walking. Until the day you…" whispered the man, everything getting hazier and hazier until he was finally pulled away to a place that Allen couldn't physically follow. "…die…"

His last word came out as a distant whisper as his body sagged down to the ground, the pitiful grip he had had on the boy's wrist loosening as tension left his body until his hand fell away. A trail of breath escaped his lips as his lungs expelled the now unneeded oxygen, his eyes now fully closed. Shed tears still glistened at the corners of his eyes, some even still trailing his face as his face became eerily placid.

His body of flesh would move no more. Mana Walker was dead.

The fearful boy wading deep in denial looked down with glassy eyes, tears filling the pain filled silver eyes of his as he shrugged away the truth that laid before him. "Mana…wake up Mana." Whispered Allen as he began pathetically shaking the man, hoping, praying that he would wake up. He just couldn't accept the truth. Couldn't accept the fact that his father was dead.

"Come on, wake up…please!" continued the boy, fat tears sliding down his face as he continued shaking Mana's still form. But with each unanswered plea, the more it began to sink in that Mana would never wake up again. With every beg that was left unaddressed, the more and more he began to realize the daunting truth. And that was tearing him up inside, his heart cracking with every tear he shed.

A part of him knew the truth. But the other half just wasn't ready to accept it, not yet.

Still shaking the man's shoulder, he continued to beg the Clown to come back. "Wake up Mana, you've got to get up! Please…don't do this to me, please don't punish me!" he wailed, his voice breaking here and there in random intervals. His bottom lip trembled as his whole body began shaking from both the ferocity of his sobs and the shock that was beginning to set in.

Gasping and wheezing for breath as he hiccupped here and there, he wouldn't relent in his begging, even if his words were starting to become so slurred that no one could possibly understand what it was exactly he was saying. "I need you, don't leave me! Pl-Please don't go…don't go w-w-where I can't follow. Don't die and leave me…" he wailed, words still slurred beyond recognition.

Vision so blurred from his onslaught of tears that he couldn't see a thing, he sank forward, his arms wrapping around his dead father's head, his face burrowing into his hair as he continued to cry. Sniffing and gasping, he mustered up what was left of his scratchy voice to plead one final time, hoping that maybe his scream would reach his dead father's ears.

"MANA!"

Mana Walker died on that un-forgettable day. Taking Allen along with him.

* * *

_Author's Note: Guys, I am deeply and utmost sorry that this took so long. I'm guessing my beta, Allen the Musician, is busy with more important things at the moment, which is understandable. And I'm sorry, if you are reading this Musician, for updating before you probably had the chance to even properly look at it. I just don't want to leave any of the readers anxious after so long. I hope you understand. _

_Anyways, I promise the next update will be a lot sooner, trust me. I've gotten some of it written already. Please, bare with me. The muse is far from being killed._

_One last thing. Narein is not an OC of mine, he's actually a character in the anime. If you know who he is, then you might be wondering why he's appeared in my story this way. Well, there is a reason for that. But that won't be revealed until the next chapter. If you don't know who he is (like myself before I wrote this chapter; knew who he was just not his name at the time), then you'll just have to figure it out because I don't want to give anything away. _


	15. Making a Deal

Ch. 14

_It doesn't hurt me_

_You want to feel how it feels_

_You want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me_

_You want to hear about the deal I'm making _

_You…_

_You and me_

_And if I only could_

_I'd make a deal with God_

_And I'd get him to swap our places_

_-Placebo: Running up that Hill_

By the time help had arrived, they had found Allen still holding onto Mana's head, cradling it in his arms as he silently continued to sob, his voice shot. The sight sent all of the carnies that had been rallied up into tears, their hearts breaking at the tragic sight of a boy having lost his father. By now those who had remained as spectators had moved on, they were uncaring of the troubles of one strange boy while immersed in their own personal problems.

Silently, those who Matthew had gathered stepped forward slowly, each of them taking a hold of the deceased Clown before carefully lifting him up off the ground. This did not bide well with the boy, who cried and howled over the disturbance, even going as far as biting a friend's hand when they had tried to pry him free from Mana's head. He was only silenced when Matthew stepped in, in his hands the Clown's top hat, which had flown off of Mana's head when he had rushed to Allen's aid. Looking at it, the acrobat gave a shaky sigh that gave a glimpse of the sorrow he was feeling for his deceased friend as he crouched down to Allen's level.

Holding the hat tight within his hands, he stared Allen right in the eyes as he handed him the hat, which was soon snatched out of his hands and clutched to the small boy's thin chest. Biting his lip at the heart-wrenching sight of Allen holding onto his father's hat as if his whole life depended on it, Matthew carefully leaned forward and engulfed the child in a comforting embrace, soon to scoop him up off his feet. Holding him close, the acrobat began rubbing circles across Allen's back, a few silent tears sliding down his pale cheeks as he murmured, "I'm going to miss him too, Allen."

All Allen gave was a hiccup in response as he cried into Matthew's chest, sandwiching the top hat right in between their bodies. Matthew continued to rub soothing circles all across the child's back as they made their way towards camp, the group making it back within ten minutes. And when they did, the cheery atmosphere soon evaporated as every member present watched the group return, four of them carrying Mana between them while Matthew cradled Allen, who had cried himself to an exhausted sleep.

The somber atmosphere did not go unnoticed as all those present fell silent. They watched as they delicately brought Mana's body into his own tent, where he would remain until it was time to bury him. Allen was set down outside of the tent, away from the others as they went about preparing the grave. They didn't have enough money to spare in order to pay for the whole caboodle, embalming and all. All they could actually guarantee was a handsome gravestone and a fairly decent coffin. The rest they would have to do on their own.

People instinctively went about the preparations without being told twice, all of them eager to pitch in in any way they could. Unshed tears could be seen glittering in a number of people's eyes as they went about their work, hardly a word being said as a group of men went to dig a grave while a few went into town to purchase the gravestone and coffin. Most of the children watched the adults work, not fully understanding what was happening, only grasping the fact that something was terribly wrong. Some of the younger children tried questioning the adults, but all they were given was silence. And when Allen had awoken, they had pestered him as well. But all he did was sit there, unresponsive and un-communicative. He just stared blankly forward, trapped inside his very body.

When he wouldn't—or couldn't—say anything, the children moved on, even Narein, leaving the small boy alone. As he sat there, filled with remorse, his mind soon became flooded with thoughts centered around regret and desperation. He shouldn't have been so brash, he shouldn't have rushed off by himself thinking nothing would happen. And now the ultimate consequence had been made: a life had been taken. He had never in his wildest dreams believed that such a thing could happen to a guy like Mana. He had never thought Mana could die just like that, so unexpectedly. The day had started out like any other, and should've ended as such. The death of Mana shouldn't have been in the equation. It had not been the man's time to go.

There had to be a way to bring him back. There just had to be a way for them to at least swap places. If he couldn't, then he'd rather die just so that he could be with the man once more. He didn't think he could go on living if he couldn't find the means of bringing him back, let alone without his presence here. He just felt so empty without Mana around, and alone. So very much alone.

It wasn't until late that afternoon that they were able to bury the Clown's body. It hadn't been very special, just a congregation of all the carnies as they placed Mana's coffin covered body within the deep grave that had been dug in front of a dead tree. One of the performers, an older gentleman named Joseph, whose father had been a priest, accepted the honor of leading the makeshift ceremony, despite the fact that this wasn't the usual ceremony or that Mana wasn't much of a Christian, only having gone to church when he was a child. But he did it nonetheless.

Giving the antiphon as the coffin was lowered into the grave, he waited for a moment as a few words were said before giving the ancient prayer. Matthew was the first to say anything, his hand resting on Allen's shoulder as he did. "Mana Walker was a kind and accepting man, one that never burdened his troubles on others and was always there to listen. In fact, it was Mana who convinced me to join the circus in the first place, in order to get away from my abusive father. And I have to admit, though I never knew him on a more personal level, the man was always more concerned with others than he was with himself.

"But if there was one thing I learned from that clown, it was this: Never stop, keep walking. Well, that is what we must do. Mana wouldn't want us to be stuck in the past and in grief. He would want us to move on and move forward, embracing life to the fullest. It's what Mana would've wanted."

Mumbles of agreement filled the air once Matthew was finished, the young man wiping away a tear that threatened to fall. Turning his eyes down to Allen as a few people began sharing their memories of the Clown, Matthew gave the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze before he gently asked, "Would you like to say a few words, Allen?" Allen didn't say a word, his dull vacant eyes staring at the hole that held his father's body. For a moment, he did nothing until suddenly and quite expectedly, he lunged forward in an attempt to dive into the grave that held Mana's cold body.

Before he could accomplish this, Narein, who had been standing on the other side of Allen, leapt forward, knocking the boy back before he had the chance. Both sliding across the snow, all fell silent as they watched the two boys wrestle with each other, the older boy easily pinning Allen down to the ground. "Calm yourself, Allen. Don't let your grief get the better of your judgment." He warned softly, only earning an outraged look from the small boy below him.

"Shut up!" he snapped. "Just shut up! If you hadn't asked me to play with you guys, then maybe Mana wouldn't have left without me, he wouldn't have died. Ever think of that, Narein?"

"This wasn't my fault, nor was it yours, Allen!" he retorted fiercely, pushing Allen's shoulders just a little deeper into the snow. "You're my best friend, I hate seeing you like this!"

Allen gazed up at his best friend with intense eyes before looking away, his body relaxing slightly as he relented. Narein breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed off of him, rolling onto his back before sitting up. Once he did that, he turned his eyes onto his younger friend. Devastation was written in his eyes as he stared at the grave in despair, tears silently streaming down the sides of his face. It tore at his heart but there was nothing he could do that could fix a thing. What's done is done, there was no way any of them could change that.

More words were shared until the ceremony was finally finished. A few of the men began shoveling the dirt and snow that had been dug out to make the grave back over it, covering up the remains of their beloved clown. It was at that time that the carnies began steadily returning back to their camp in somber silence. One by one the number of those present dwindled down until there was only three who remained: Alina, Allen, and Narein.

The gypsy stared at the gravestone with bloodshot eyes, a simple daffodil clutched in her gloved hands. She had found the flower growing not too far from the sight of the grave and had been amazed to find it still growing strong without any signs of wilting despite the fact that it had snowed. Because it amazed her so, she had decided to pluck it up and give it to Mana as a simple token. Placing it upon the cross-shaped gravestone, the gypsy gave a shaky sigh as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes before she turned to the two children behind her, both still sitting upon the snow.

Narein instantly looked up to her as she turned, but Allen remained gazing at the cross-shaped gravestone that bore Mana's name, his eyes dull and seemingly lifeless. It was as if a part of him had died with Mana. And with that thought, it soon dawned on her that Allen's future was already in motion, his fate having been affected by the very outcome of today. Wherever it led him, it would not be a road easily travelled and the end was certainly unclear. But she knew this: the journey he would have to make would be just as dark, if not more so, as it was today. And it would be a journey that he would have to make alone.

"I-I'm going to head back now," Alina said with a hoarse voice. "Will you guys be coming too? It isn't wise to stay out here in the cold for too long."

Narein turned to Allen once more and noticing the lack of registration that had appeared on his face upon hearing Alina's words, he promptly said, "We're going to wait here for just while longer if that's alright." Alina looked to him questionably, a crooked and small smile coming onto the boy's face as he added, "I don't want to leave Allen here all alone. Something tells me that he's going to need a great amount of coaxing to go back."

"I understand," she said. "Just don't stay out for too long, alright?"

"Yeah," said Narein.

And with that the gypsy reluctantly left, leaving the two boys alone in silence. For quite some time no word was passed between the two, except for heavy silence. Narein didn't know what he could possibly say to comfort his friend. The boy had just lost his father after all. It wouldn't hurt to let his friend grieve for a little while longer, would it? But Narein was growing tired of the silence. With a shaky intake of breath he hesitantly asked, "So…do you want to talk about it?"

Again silence was given as an answer, Allen not even bothering to look at his companion. Narein gave a sigh as he sat back, falling silent once more. The two sat there for several hours, neither sharing a word with each other as Allen stared at the gravestone and Narein laid upon the snow. Before either of them realized it, the sun was already beginning to set, dusk coloring the sky. It was at that point that Narein couldn't stand just sitting there in silence any longer. Plus he was starting to get hungry, the enticing smell of food in the distance causing his stomach to growl.

Sitting up, he turned to Allen as he gave a shake of his head, dislodging speckles of snow before he said after hours of silence, "I think it's time we go back to camp." Rising to his feet, he stood over his younger friend, a saddened look on his face as Allen continued to ignore his existence. Slowly, he grasped the boys wrist, cautiously pulling him up onto his feet while he added, "We can come back tomorrow, if you want. And maybe you could talk to him, let him know how you feel."

Allen was silent for a moment as he pulled back to camp, his dull lifeless eyes staring at the cross before he managed to mumble, "That's stupid…"

"Hey," chuckled Narein, "I was just throwing out a suggestion!"

"A stupid one…"

A smile broke out across the older boy's face, relieved that he had finally managed to break through to Allen. But he was only half right. Sure, he had gotten him to finally talk after hours of seemingly never ending silence, but that still did not keep him from grief. The loss was still heavy in his heart, and he still wished that there was some way he could get his father back. He'd do anything, anything, to get Mana back.

Life without him would just prove to be unbearable.

* * *

As soon as night had fallen and everyone had fallen asleep, Allen managed to slip out of the tent he was now sharing with Matthew and make his way over to Mana's grave unnoticed. Before he had set out, he had made sure that he had his heavy, checkered jacket and the oven mitt for his left hand on. He would definitely need to stay warm if he wanted to stay beside Mana's grave for the rest of the night.

Forcing himself out of the warmth and safety of the tent, the boy made his way forward, his boots crunching in the snow as he wandered over to where Mana's grave had been placed. The coldness caused his cheeks to flush, his hair whipping this way and that from the cold wind that felt like daggers to his skin. Needless to say he ignored it, his desire to be as close as he could to Mana far greater than his own comforts.

It took him a good half hour to actually make it to the grave, the snow having proven to be a challenge to walk through all on his own. Plus, though he loathed to admit it, he had gotten a little lost along the way. But eventually he made it there, red faced and out of breath, all but ready to collapse at this point. Weak-kneed, he fell to the ground in a heap, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to regain his breath. It took him a moment but when he did, he sat up, his eyes filling with renewed despair as he took in the grave that rested underneath that skeletal tree.

His bottom lip trembled as tears came to his silver eyes. He felt so torn up inside, so lost and broken. Why couldn't he have been the one to have been killed? Why couldn't Mana have been spared? Why had this even happened? So many questions and not enough answers. It was all just very upsetting for Allen, who couldn't understand why his father had been taken away from him so suddenly. It was becoming so painful that he swore he'd do anything to bring the Clown back.

And that was all it took to bring the Earl of Millennium.

Sniffing before bringing the back of his hand up to his running nose, Allen continued to stare at the cross-shaped grave longingly. He was about to move closer when he heard a chuckle overhead, glove hands wrapping around the snow-covered stone as they leaned forward. Looking up, he caught sight of this strange being with a large, perpetual grin on his face, his eyes hidden behind a pair of small spectacles.

"Good evening, little one. You look sad." He said gently, catching Allen by surprise. The man hadn't even opened his mouth and yet words were still spoken as if he had. Mesmerized, he blinked slowly, wondering if this was some kind of dream. But unfortunately for him, it wasn't.

"Would you like me to bring your dead daddy back to life for you?"

Allen's eyes widened and his heart fluttered. Was he hearing this right? Was this strange man's words true? Could he really bring Mana back to life?

"What?" he muttered, still quite unsure if he had heard his words right.

"I simply need you to call for him since you have such a special bond," he said as he leaned in further. "Wouldn't it be great if you could see him again?"

"He'll come back?" Allen asked in a soft voice, still unsure.

"Of course!" he exclaimed as he stood up. "Come, let's call him back from your detestable God."

"But can he…I mean will he hear me calling?"

The strange man gave a hearty chuckle as he gave a snap of his fingers, a metallic skeleton appearing out of thin air. Allen twisted his torso around to peer at it, the bizarre looking skeletal figure appearing to be strangely familiar. It felt as if he had seen something of the sort before, he just couldn't put his finger on it.

Getting to his feet, he watched as the portly man made his way to the skeleton, his face filling with shadows as he stared at Allen. Another, lighter chuckle came from him as he instructed, "Now, raise your voice and call the soul of the one you love back from the other world." Allen gazed at the thing with uncertainty, unsure if he should really be doing this. But he had to do this, even if nothing happened and it was all pointless. He had to try. For Mana.

Stepping forward with wavering steps, boots crunching in the snow, Allen stopped right in front of the metallic skeleton, silver eyes filled with a mixture of uncertainty and hope. The portly man stepped back to the side, words of encouragement coming out of his closed mouth, words that Allen hardly took any notice of. He was too busy staring at the thing that would, theoretically, bring Mana back to life, though he didn't quite understand how. But hey, he couldn't question it. This could be his only chance.

Closing his eyes shut, he mustered up all the voice he had in him before he suddenly opened his mouth and screamed with all his might, "MMMAAANNNAAAAA!" The scream echoed all around, amplified by the howling wind. A bolt of eerily purple lightning shot down from the heavens, striking the metallic skeleton straight on and igniting it in a large burst of bright purple light that surged like fire. Quickly, the light died down to a hallow glow, a single black star plastering itself across the forehead of the metal skull as the name 'Mana' was scrawled elegantly across the brow.

A gentle smile came onto Allen's face, tears returning to his eyes as he softly murmured, "Mana…" The thing that could now be considered Mana moved, joints creaking as it moved its head up to look at Allen. Slowly and with difficulty, the skull's jaw began to move, Mana's familiar voice leaving its mouth. As if confused, the thing murmured in questioning, "Al-Allen?"

Allen could hardly believe it, a few tears managing to slip down his cold cheeks as he stumbled forward, arms outstretching towards the skeleton that was Mana as he repeated the Clown's name, a strange sensation suddenly running up his left arm. Affection ringing in his voice, he ignored the feeling, too eager he was to be in Mana's arms, even if they were ones made of metal. But much to his surprise, his affection was hardly reciprocated.

"How could you…" Mana muttered in shock before he leaned forward imposingly, anger soon in his voice. "How dare you make me an akuma?"

His harsh words caused Allen to freeze in his place, a questioning look on his face. Why was Mana so upset? Had he done something wrong yet again? Mana, on the other hand, seemed to be in despair over how his son couldn't realize that he had done something terribly wrong. Sorrow was in his voice as his voice-box managed to croak out, "I curse you, Allen!" Frozen in place, Allen watched with startled eyes as skeletal Mana stepped forward, his right, razor-sharp blade of an arm held up high.

Before Allen had time to register it, the bladed arm came sweeping down, catching him right across his left eye, starting from above his eyebrow and ending at the base of his cheek. Blood splattered to ground, dyeing the snow red in certain places. Pain nagged at his left eye as he stumbled back in shock, his left hand instinctively going up to his eye. Gingerly touching it with the large oven mitt, Allen was caught off guard when a large cord sudden wrapped around his body, ensnaring itself around him tightly before dragging him to the snow-covered ground.

Allen gasped for breath as he was knocked off his feet and slammed to the ground, anger still rolling off the thing that held Mana's soul. It didn't help that his voice was Mana's, making this whole sensation ten times worse. "How could you make me an akuma?" he demanded, causing the Earl to chuckle over the scene as he now stood beside the gravestone. "Ah young Allen, you're all mine now…Mana Walker, I order you to kill the boy and wear his body."

"I curse you…" Mana seethed before he threw his head back and howled, "ALLEN!"

Tears and blood streamed down his face as an enormous amount of guilt gripped his heart. What had he done? He had done something he rightfully shouldn't have and now, now he was going to pay the price. If this was how it was all going to end, then so be it. He had done something terrible; he didn't deserve to be alive anymore.

The itching sensation in his left arm from before grew, now a burning pain at this point. The entire limb shook, trembling as a sudden light with a greenish hue grew from his gloved left hand, the fabric tearing away as his limb took on a dramatic transformation. Mana gave a scream of pain as he recoiled from the light, the strange metallic claw-like hand ensnaring the akuma in a vice-like grip. Allen soon gave a scream of horror as the monstrous limb squeezed Mana's skeletal body, both of their screams mingling as his limb tossed Mana away.

Allen watched the skeletal being roll away, his eyes lingering on it before they turned down to the large, metallic limb that resembled a claw. A red cross glowed fiercely on the back of the demonic hand, a green glow coming from it as the large claws kneaded into the snow anxiously. The Earl looked at Allen in amazement, his arms folding behind his back as he stepped back, quickly dissolving away into the shadows with one last, lingering chuckle to show that he had been there. But at this point, Allen had forgotten all about him as his limb did something equally as bizarre as its appearance.

It started moving on its own.

The claws flexed before moving along at amazing speeds, the large arm pulling Allen over to where Mana's skeletal body laid smoking like an eager predator coming in for the kill. Allen gave a startled yelp as he was dragged along, his heart beating a mile a minute as he realized that the arm was taking him to Mana, and the thing was more than eager to destroy the akuma that held Mana's soul.

"Stop! Don't hurt Mana!" Allen shrieked as the limb pounced, the claws flexing as they prepared to rip the akuma to shreds. "RUN FATHER! FATHER, NOOO!"

Mana pushed his skeletal body up, his head turning to watch Allen as his strange arm came shooting towards him. He could see that Allen was resisting this, trying his hardest to prevent his arm from destroying him. But he couldn't fight it, he had to destroy him in order to save him. It was the only way.

As the claw hovered inches away from his skull of a head, Mana spoke in a soft gentle voice, "Allen…I love you."

Allen's heart skipped a beat upon hearing these simple words, his eyes widening before the left gave this sudden transformation that caused the white of his eye to become black, erasing the presence of his pupil and iris as two blood red rings took their place. To his amazement, he could suddenly see Mana again, a pleading look on his face as he stood over his skeletal body, his arms outstretched from his sides.

"Destroy me….please," he pleaded, "Destroy me…Allen…"

"MANA!" Allen screamed, tears flying as his monstrosity of an arm came crashing down upon skeletal body of the akuma, a scream coming from the voice box of the thing as Mana's soul began fading away. A gentle smile was upon Mana's face as he faded away, his eyes filled with sorrow as he took in the boy he had considered his own as he fell forward, his hair suddenly becoming bleach white as the arm reverted back to the same deformed red limb from before.

That last thing he saw was the child's face as it stared up at him before he finally faded away completely.

* * *

Cross found himself standing in shock, his cigarette on the verge of falling out of his mouth because of this. He stood in the shadows, still in disbelief of what he had just laid witness to. No, it couldn't be possible. His eyes were just messing with him, right? He hadn't just witnessed the brat's brat take out an akuma…had he? What kind of fucked up world was this?

Here he thought he was just going to make a quick visit before he continued on in his own personal mission, one that was taking him years to complete, when he had come into sight of the brat destroying a level 0. He had never once thought that he'd witness something like this. Something so alarming and so unexpected that it would leave him, General Marian Cross, in shock.

How could the brat have innocence? Or, more importantly, how could he have not known?

"Damn Musician…" growled Cross as he managed to take a few steps forward. "You've just fucked up your child's life even more."

Trudging through the snow with ease, he silently made his way to where Allen sat before the steaming pile of ash. He was taken aback somewhat by the fact that the child's hair had prematurely turned snow white, but he hardly let that bother his steady pace. Stopping just meters from where Allen sat, Cross took a moment to stare at his pathetic form before saying, "A soul trapped in an akuma is doomed forever. They are forever captive and they become dangerous toys of the Millennium Earl."

Allen gave no inclination that he heard, his glassy gaze still focused on the pile of steaming ash. Cross gave an aggravated sigh as he stepped forward, drawing closer to where the brat sat like a pathetic baby. Crouching down beside him, Cross added, "Destroying them is the only way to save them." His words gave Allen some comfort, but not enough to stop his tears.

Trying hard to remain patient—not use to dealing with something like this—Cross' eye turned down to the blood red limb, his eye lingering on the jade colored stone that lay embedded in the boy's hand. Unlike other parasites that he had encountered, this piece of innocence appeared to have been there for several years, perhaps maybe even since he was born. Which only caused him to grumble in aggravation. 'I guess it just slipped your stupid little mind that you never mentioned this to me. This changes everything, Walker.' He thought, eye still focused on the pulsating innocence fragment.

"I see you're a human born with an anti-akuma weapon. What an unfortunate fate." Cross said. 'That's not the only thing you were given…' "Yet another soldier of life doomed by fate."

Holding back his repulsion, Cross carefully placed a gloved hand upon Allen's shoulder, finally drawing the boy's attention away from the heap of ash. Turning to Cross, Allen gave a little whimper as he stared into the man's face, finding that behind its gruff exterior was a man that felt sympathetic for his case. But he didn't want this man's help or his pity. He just wanted to be left alone.

Cross stared right back, taking noticed of how much he could see his dead friend in the child before him. It only served to make him feel sick. And it was not only just because of that fact, but also because the boy had innocence bonded to him. This little fact changed everything he had had planned. Now he would really need to keep a closer eye on him. Unless…no, such a notion was absurd. There was no way he was going to take a snot-nosed brat with him. He was cool about checking up on him every now and again, but this was out of the question. He was not taking the brat with him to wherever the hell it was that he needed to go.

But he couldn't just leave him alone, not while the boy's uncle was no longer around.

With a slight growl, he forced his entire being to ask this one simple question, "How would you like to become an Exorcist?"

Silence remained between them, Allen's gaze turning away from Cross just so that he could look back over at the gravestone that remained underneath that dead tree. Turning his head back forward, he balled his hands into fists as he stared down intensely at the dusty remains of the akuma. Taking in a shaky breath Allen turned his head back to Cross, an adamant look in his eyes as he gave his answer.

"…No…"

End of Act 1

_Author's Note: Merry Christmas everyone! This is my present to you all! I hope you liked it. But don't be thinking that this is the end of this story because oh no, I have much in store for you all. This is merely the end of Act 1: Circus Life._

_I also hope that this little twist at the end surprised you all!_


	16. Death, Won't You Take Me?

Warning: Allen angst ahead.

Act. 2: A New Life Is Waiting

Chapter 15

'No words can heal a broken heart

A dream is gone

But where there's hope

Somewhere

Something is calling for you

Two worlds,

One family

Trust your heart

Let fate decide

To guide these lives we see'

-Phil Collins: Two Worlds

Rain poured down from the heavens, the sky matching the dark mood that was placed over a strange troupe's camp. Lightning flashed and thunder roared as the rain proceeded to pound down even harder, making the day ever more miserable than it already was. The weather did not do well in settling the commotion of all the beings locked in carriages that doubled as cages.

In one of the steel-barred carts, a teenage boy rested on his side a pile of soggy and uncomfortable hay. He watched with distant eyes as the rain continued to fall, hopelessness exuding from him. Countless welts and lacerations marked the boy's body, his unusual white hair splotched with dirt and dried blood. All he had on were a pair of cotton slacks that were ripped and torn in various places, his torso left bare, only making the natural chill a whole lot worse than it needed to be. His body was only wracked with endless shivers because of it.

Water was leaking into his cage, droplets dripping onto his face. Normally, such a thing would have caused him to move away, but he had no way of doing such a thing. Why, you may ask? Well it was because of his left arm of course. The strange limb was left chained to the wooden floor by heavy shackles, preventing it from moving no more than an inch or so. That is to say if it could. Ever since that night those seven years ago, he had lost what little feeling he had once had in his left arm. The damn thing just laid there like dead weight, always twitching and always spazzing.

He had once thought the arm to be a curse, his sin. But now he believed it to be so.

Without the blasted thing, he wouldn't be here, trapped like a common beast. But this was his punishment for doing such a heinous crime to his own father, who had also cursed him accordingly. Whether it was to bare the grotesque scar on his left cheek or something more, he was unsure. But the scar was proof enough, he supposed. Indeed, all of this was a rightful punishment. And now he had to repent for his sins. Even if he had to do it in this hellhole.

But maybe…maybe if he had done things differently, if he hadn't been foolish, things might have turned out differently.

_Flashback_

_With a slight growl, Cross forced his entire being to ask this one simple question, "How would you like to become an Exorcist?"_

_Silence remained between them, Allen's gaze turning away from Cross just so that he could look back over at the gravestone that remained underneath the dead tree. Turning his head back forward, he balled his hands into fists as he stared down intensely at the dusty remains of the akuma. Taking in a shaky breath Allen turned his head to Cross, an adamant look in his eyes as he gave his answer._

"…_No…"_

_Cross stared at him stupidly. "What?" he managed to croak, not quite believing his ears._

"_I don't want to be a…a…an Exorcist. I don't want to go through something like this again." Allen replied, the thought causing him to whimper. He wasn't sure if he could take doing something like that again. It would just be too much._

_Allen waited for a gruff response to come from the stranger, but when none came he rose to his feet and started to move. When he did, the man's hand shot out and snatched a hold of his left wrist, the harsh grip sending rivulets of pain up his arm. Chest tightening, the boy fell to one knee and struggled hard not to gasp as sweat slid down his face. Panting, Allen looked over his shoulder to see the man staring at him with raging coals of fire in his showing eye. With clenched teeth he managed to growl, "Where do you think you're going brat?"_

"_Away from you." He said painstakingly. _

_With as much strength as he could muster he yanked his wrist free from the man's hold, the force causing him to fall forward. Not wanting to stick around to see what the man planned to do, Allen scrambled to his feet and darted forward just in time before Cross had the chance to wrap his hand around the back of the boy's jacket. Without looking back Allen ran forward, his eyes remaining focused on what was in front of him, well aware that the man with red hair was following him._

_Huffing and panting, Allen wouldn't stop, still surprised by the fact that the stranger hadn't caught up to him by now. The man was far bigger than he was after all, and was bound to catch up to him eventually, what with his stamina probably being far greater than his own. But what Allen hadn't realized was that Cross wasn't in fact chasing him. He had given up doing that a long time ago. No, he was watching the boy go, waiting for him to wear himself out before he retrieved him. He was sure the boy would head back to his camp, and so was Allen. But neither of them took into account the possibility of him getting lost. And unfortunately, that very thing happened._

_The snow was blowing and the wind was howling and Allen was finding it increasingly difficult to see what was in front of him. Mix that with the fact that he had a poor sense of direction and one would easily understand how it was possible for Allen to become quickly and inexplicably lost. Exhausted and hungry, Allen didn't really care where he was going. All he wanted was to get away from the strange redhead that had wanted to take him away. He wasn't about to let that happen though, not by a long shot. _

_Stumbling forward, the cold soon felt like knives to his skin and frost was starting form on the ends of his bleached hair. He soon found it difficult to breathe, his lungs feeling as though they were on fire from all the chilled wind he had to gulp. Disoriented by the pain, his head was soon swimming and before long he found his face planting a bank of snow, his body collapsing into exhaustion. And before he knew it he fell unconscious. _

_End of Flashback_

What happened after he lost consciousness was pretty self-explanatory. When he had come to he had found himself in this very cage, locked up. At first, he had been confused as to why he was there, locked away like an animal. After all, his friend's should've recognized that it was him despite his new appearance. Of course, he soon realized that his troupe didn't have any of these sorts of cages, and that realization had caused dread to fill him. He hadn't made it back to his camp; he had been taken to another.

He's been trapped there ever since then, forced to live his life as some kind of animal bred for ridicule. Countless showings he had had to endure endless jeering and ruthless cruelty, the public finding nothing better to do than to either laugh at him or scream; either way it still hurt his pride. He loathed this place, more than he loathed himself at the best of times. He just wanted to go home, it's something he's wanted ever since he was trapped here.

The sensation of something jabbing at his ribs snapped him out of his thoughts and caused his gaze to turn over to the man who had probed him with his cane. Once noticing he had the boy's attention, a ghastly smirk befitting a lowly creature came onto his face. Turning to his assistant beside him, he said, "Get the demon ready for the show this afternoon. I don't want him passing out like he did last time."

"Certainly sir." The weasel-like man beside him said, a sadistic smirk growing upon his face as he withdrew a bundled whip from the inside of his coat.

Allen inwardly groaned, his eyes falling tightly shut as he heard the door to his cage creak as it was slowly pulled open. With each noise that he heard, his eyes would scrunch tighter, fear steadily sinking in and causing his body to shake. Anticipation swelled, and soon Allen found himself trying to predict when the lashes would come. Of course, he could never be quite sure and because of this, he was always surprised when the pain suddenly came. This time was no exception.

The crack of the whip was what alerted him, but like always, waiting for the pain always put him on edge. When he actually felt it, he had to bite his tongue in order to hold back his screams. Squirming under the heat of the lash, Allen fought to move away, raw instinct causing him to bare his teeth viciously and hiss. The way he saw it, if they enjoyed treated him like an animal then he might as well act like one.

Viciously he swiped out at his assailant, only to meet the whip halfway and earn a lash to the palm of his hand. Hissing in pain, he resorted to kicking the man, earning harder and faster strikes that eventually caused him to seize his resistance and scream out in pain. Thrashing around violently, Allen tried protecting his sensitive left arm, keeping his body over it as the whipping continued. Struggling against the sting of his tears, he suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream when the end of the whip managed to meet his deformed limb.

Rage soon blinded him as he took the next lash to his shoulder before surprising his tormentor by clamping his teeth on the whip before the man could draw it back. Bringing his free hand to the thick strand, he gave a mighty tug and the man was pulled into the cage up to his upper torso. Growling, Allen was merciless as he drew back his feet and kicked the guy in the face, effectively breaking his nose as he was forced back out.

Falling clumsily upon his back, the man hissed in pain as he cupped his hands over his gushing nose. Glaring up at Allen's triumphant face he growled, "Why you little shit!" Heatedly jumping to his feet, he went to teach the freak a thing or two when he felt a hand grab his own. Stopping, he reeled on the person and yanked his hand away from the person's in obvious disgust. "What do you want freak?" he spat, the person bowing her head in shame over his unkind words.

The person—a dwarf sized woman—clutched the ends of her skirt as she kept her head bowed, her body visibly shaking as she said, "I-I don't t-think Mr. McQueen would like i-it very much if you b-beat A-Allen into un-unconsciousness." Her softer, higher pitched voice caused the man with the dark black hair to deeply scowl in disgust and he soon found himself drawing back his hand and striking her across the face out of unjustifiable anger. The force of the strike caused her to jerk her face to the right before falling pitifully to the ground.

Whimpering as she collected herself up off the ground, the little woman looked up teary eyed at the man as he snapped, "You watch your place, freak! I don't need your kind telling me what to do." Groaning over the sudden wave of pain that came after he had finished speaking, the man clutched at his nose once more as he shot a glare over his shoulder to Allen. Glaring at his smug form for a few more seconds, he slowly stomped over to the boy's cage, slammed the iron barred door shut, and stalked off, leaving the dwarf and demon in the dust.

Once she was sure he was gone, the little woman rose to her feet and rushed over to the cage, needing the steps on the side of the wheeled cage to actually see the teen's face. Clutching the iron bars with her small hands, she fearfully asked, "What do you think you were trying to accomplish by pulling that stunt, Allen? You're only going to get into even more trouble."

Allen stared at her round face for a moment before cracking a dry smile. That smirk did not know the meaning of sincerity for it lacked the warmth and care that usually came with such a gesture. His…his was just broken and cracked, waiting to be shattered at any given moment in time. It was pitiful, and it almost made her cry. Time in this dank place had changed him drastically; he was colder and quieter, hardly ever daring to crack a smile and when he did, it was only this dry one she saw on his face now.

If only he hadn't come here in the first place, then maybe he wouldn't have turned out as this broken individual that laid before her now.

"Allen," she began as she sank against the iron bars. "Why must you torment McQueen's men so much?"

The white-haired teen adverted his gaze as he rolled onto his opposite side, his bruised back facing the tiny woman. Sighing over her failed attempt to reach him, she wiped away some of the dark locks that clung to her forehead before she pushed herself away from the cage and walked away. Allen craned his neck to look over his shoulder upon hearing the sound of her footsteps retreading. Giving a frown filled with despair he sank back down to the ground before hoarsely whispering, "Because I'm hoping they'll kill me."

Drawing his legs up to his body, Allen took a deep breath before exhaling slowly, his eyes staring out the other side of his wheeled cage. He stared for a moment out into the distance before his eyes fell shut, forcing himself to detach from the world and into the safety of his dreams. Even though they were haunted with dreadful nightmares of that one moment in December where his life had taken a turn, it was still better than this cruel reality.

* * *

Cross kept his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the sturdy bark of an oak tree, a cigarette lit and in his mouth. His trained gaze was kept focused on the wagon that held the mutt that was destined to be the next Musician. Some may wonder why, after learning the treatment that the brat was forced to endure, hadn't he broken him out? Well, to put it rather simply, Cross was never one to forgive easily. And he surely hadn't forgiven the brat for running away from him like that, or for having made him search for him for weeks until finding him locked up in this ridiculous establishment.

The way he saw it, as long as the filthy brat was in an easily tractable traveling troupe, he wouldn't have to worry about taking care of him. But there was still the unresolved issue of him possessing innocence, which warranted the General to come by more than he used to when the brat was a child in order make sure there were no akuma in the area. Granted he had some free time now after he had chosen to not report back to the Order for various reasons several years ago, that still didn't mean that Cross enjoyed dropping by like this. And there was also the fact that he wasn't sure how much longer he could waste keeping his eye on the brat while the Earl was now back on the scene.

What was more important: Making sure that nothing happened to the brat's brat or defeating the Earl? I think some would find that defeating the Earl would be the one with the utmost importance, but something about the fact that the brat both had Noah genes and innocence just didn't seem right. It would be foolish to think that such a vessel containing power from both sides would be insignificant. As far as he knew, such a being could be the key. The very key Cross needed to vanquish the Millennium Earl and, essentially, though he loathed to admit it, avenge the death of his friend.

But Cross wasn't in the mood to mold and harness the boy's power so that it could meet its full potential, or his own desired potential at least, just yet. Maybe he would've been when the boy had just lost his foster father, but the brat just had to go and ruin it by running away like the little weakling sissy he was. No, Cross didn't have the patience to mentor a boy, who was well on his way to being considered a man, in the ways of an apostle. But there was always that stupid organization who would be just thrilled by the prospect of training another recruit. Yes…things just might work then. The Order could do the training, and then he could come in and use the brat to his own advantage when the time was right!

Why hadn't he thought of this sooner?

Turning to the golden golem that rested upon his right shoulder he said, "Timcanpy, I do believe maybe this brat and that shitty organization can be of some use to us after all." The golem gave a toothy grin in response before fluttering up to rest on Cross' broad-rimmed hat. Chuckling with dark amusement, he pushed off the tree and began making his way back into town. "Come on, we've got a little phone call to make."

* * *

When the afternoon finally came, the rain had stopped, and the sky was back to its optimistic and hopefully blue self, white puffball clouds dappling across the surface. How ironic for a sinister show to have such a brightly colored sky. By this time Allen's muscles had grown stiff, his whole body in an aching throb, and he was definitely not looking forward to his upcoming performance. No wait, scratch that. It wasn't a performance, it was a sick display of his unfortunate deformity. He hated it more than he hated himself.

At the sight of the two muscle men coming towards his holding place, Allen gave an inward groan. When they reached his cage, one of them yanked the door open while the other proceeded to unchain his arm from the surface of the wooden floor. Heartlessly he was yanked out of his prison and tossed to the ground, the right side of his body hitting the mucky ground with a wet splash. Grimacing at the cool and sticky feel of the mud caking itself on his exposed torso and face, Allen was forced onto to his feet by the two men, both holding scowls.

Both kept a tight, painful grip on his upper arms, the pain causing him to inwardly squirm. Outwardly, though, his discomfort didn't register on his face, his face as blank as a clean slate. Dull eyes stared at the ground as his head remained lulled forward, his body kept limp as he was dragged forward to McQueen's tent. Dread grew and grew the closer he was brought to his inevitable mockery. Heart beating steadily faster and faster, Allen forced himself to calmly close his eyes and hope for the best. Of course, he was only kidding himself with hoping for the best because there would never be the best here in a place like this. Not for a guy like him.

Once inside, the hands around his arms suddenly were gone and Allen soon collapsed to the floor. Almost at once, as soon as he on his hands and knees upon the floor, a gloved hand grasped a handful of his hair and yanked his head upward. The owner of this terrible sideshow drew his head close to his, and as he began to speak, the terrible stench of alcohol wafted over Allen, a smell that always made his stomach churn. "Listen, demon, I swear if you so much as close your eyes out there for more than a few seconds, I'll make sure you wish your own grandmother hadn't even been born."

A dark smile twisted itself onto Allen's face. With a hoarse voice he whispered, "I already wish that, you drunken bastard." This earned him a swift kick right where it hurts, this causing him to bite down hard on his bottom lip as he moaned in pain. But this wasn't the end of it. Soon his body was given a brutal beating by his greasy-haired, blotchy-faced capturer; small cuts from broken glass were quickly scattered across his torso and face and bruises grew darker and uglier by the second.

In the end, Allen was kicked against one of the cargo boxes that were off to the side, his body mangled and broken. Heaving for breath, he rested on his side, sweat and blood sliding down the side of his face. He watched with dizzying vision as the snake of a man came stalking forward with a belt in his hands, his dark eyes glowing with blinding rage that could only come from a drunken stupor. Smiling maliciously, he squatted down and, in the blink of an eye, pinned the boy down by the throat with the leather strap.

Gasping for breath Allen began thrashing around, his face growing steadily blue. But then he forced his into relaxation, an eager smile befitting a child just given a new toy coming onto his bruised face. Yes, this was it. McQueen was finally going to kill him! To his dissatisfaction though, a look of understanding came onto the greasy man's face and he reluctantly drew the belt away from the boy's neck. As soon as that happened, Allen began coughing out of reflex, his body yearning for some much needed oxygen. But he didn't want the oxygen. He wanted to die. Why couldn't he just die?

"You'd actually like it if I killed you," McQueen sneered as he rose to his feet, his contemptuous eyes staring down cruelly at the trembling form of his money-making fiend.

Allen had no strength to reply back, too choked up with remorse and disappointment he was to do so. He just remained there, shaking as tears of anguish slid down his face. Why was God keeping him here, all alone and trapped? What was so special that he needed to remain here in this cruel, despairing world that only held mockery for someone like him? He just wanted to die. Was that too much to ask?

McQueen glared down at the deformed demon as he grabbed the nearest whiskey bottle and took a swing, his buzzing attention kept on him until his name was called. "McQueen, the show's about to start."

"I hear you," he called over his shoulder, "Bring me a bucket full of water. The demon will be showing last."

"Right away, sir. I'll get someone on it."

"Good…" McQueen purred as he took another swing from his whiskey. Allen watched as the man turned his back to him and began pacing away. Sinking to the ground, he ruefully began wiping his tears away. Thinking, he began pondering over when the desire to go home been replaced with that to die. It was clear that death wasn't an option for him because it seemed as though fate was making sure that he stayed alive.

Fine. If death wasn't going to take him, then there was no point in staying here just to bear useless beatings and humiliating ridicule. He had to make sure his original wish was fulfilled. He had to find a way out of here.

He had to go back to the place he had once called home.

* * *

A man of Chinese descent slept sprawled out upon his severely cluttered desk, a light snore emitting from him as he drooled upon various paperwork. It was only when the phone sitting precariously on the corner of the greatly unorganized desk began ringing did the man begin to stir. Mumbling slurred words, the man groggily began blindly searching for the phone. After a few failed attempts he eventually found it and as he pulled it off the receiver he lifted his head up.

With a large yawn he mumbled, "This is Chief Komui Lee from the Main Branch of the Black Order. Who may I ask is calling?" Komui was silent for a moment, waiting tiredly to learn the name of his caller. But instead of sharing that the caller went straight to the point.

'_An accommodator can be found in Canterbury, England as a member of a traveling freak show.'_

Komui made a note to jot that down before he asked, "I'm sorry but who is this?" It took him a moment of sifting through his memories to recognize that he knew that gruff and harsh voice. "General Cross? Is that—"

The line suddenly went dead after that.

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait between updates, I had my computer taken away plus I've been really busy with school work. I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with this chapter, I wanted to try something completely different. The main reason I started this story in the first place was to write as if 'this didn't happen' then 'this wouldn't have happened' type thing. But now I guess it's kind of grown into writing a story exploring the interconnected relationship between Mana, Allen, and Neah. And I guess Cross as well to an extent. _

_Allen the Musician: I hope you read the message I sent you prior if you are reading this. I still want you as a beta, I just didn't want to leave the readers hanging after my absence._

_XD: I know you were looking forward to seeing Allen's training with Cross but I'm sorry to say that that will not be happening here, but I promise you that there will be a kind of 'training' that Cross will have with Allen in the future. But that's all I say at the moment. I'm glad you enjoy the story though and think that it's beautifully written. I appreciate the overly generous complement._


	17. The Monster You Are, The Human I Am

Warning: Depressing chapter. Major Allen angst ahead. Don't say I didn't warn you…

Ch. 16

_'I'm treading for my life, believe me_

_(How can I keep up this breathing)_

_Not knowing how to think_

_I scream aloud, begin to sink_

_My legs and arms are broken down_

_With envy for the solid ground_

_I'm reaching for the life within me_

_How can one man stop his ending_

_I thought of just your face_

_Relaxed and floated into space'_

_-Blue October: Into the Ocean_

The cold shock of water slapping against his throbbing back caused Allen to look back up, gasping as another round of water was poured over his head. Shivering violently, he was hardly aware of the fact that men were advancing towards him, rope soon being fascine to his right wrist and ankle. Upon feeling the rough and hairy strands, Allen immediately began struggling to break free.

Thrashing and kicking, a guttural snarl escaped his lips, his eyes steeling over with violent rage. Roaring in animosity, he rolled over onto his back and, using the momentum, sent his left arm flying right into a man's face with frightening force. This, of course, only earned him a handful of whip lashes to the front of his chest. Back arching and body tensing, Allen let out a scream of misery that resonated throughout the entire tent.

Wrestling even fiercer, his cries were suddenly muffled when a medium sized potato sack was shoved over his head. Fighting to remove it, his arm was forcefully pulled away by a swift tug from the rope at his wrist, his other arm being ensnared by a heavy shackle that was clamped to his upper arm. It was then that he was pulled up to a sitting position and dragged forward. Kicking and screaming, his violent struggle was put to rest when a cane whacked him upside the head, the blow effectively stunning him.

Head spinning and body going limp, Allen was quickly hauled to his feet and carried away to his showcase stage. All the while McQueen watched in dark satisfaction, a twisted sense of triumph on his face as he stroke his sharp goatee. Snickering darkly, he muttered, "Struggle all you want, my money-making pet. But I can assure you that there's no way that you'll ever get out of this place…alive." To stress his point, he moved over to a nearby desk and pulled open one of the drawers to reveal a loaded revolver sitting pristinely atop a few stacks of paper and packets of morphine.

Giving a greedy grin, McQueen pulled back his jacket and placed the firearm into a holster at his chest. As soon as he did this, he could hear one of his employees remind him once more that the show was about to start. Mumbling back a reply, McQueen seized his whip and top hat before exiting the tent and making his way over to the showcase stage.

It was show-time.

* * *

Feeling thoroughly accomplished with himself, General Cross Marian decided to do something he hadn't done intentionally before: visit the brat. He figured he'd get a good look of him and make a mental assessment as to when he should go out of his way to contact the boy again before disappearing once more into the shadows of the background. But as he made his way to over to the show site, he found himself faced with an accumulating group of people being ushered into a large tent.

Picking his curiosity, Cross changed his direction and diverted his attention to what was being showed within this tent that everyone seemed to be congregating around. Craning his neck over the ground, he quickly spotted a sign and made his way to it. With a little pushing and shoving, it didn't take him long to make it to the extravagant sign. On it were bright, eye catching words that read: 'The Devil's Spawn, a child of Satan himself'. Underneath those chilling words was a painted image of a twisted and distorted figure sitting mostly in darkness, only the left eye and upper left arm shown. Both of which were red like blood.

'Oh God,' Cross thought with utter disgust and regret, 'Please don't be who I think this is…'

Tucking Timcanpy into one of his breast pockets, something he knew the golem greatly despised, Cross paid the entry fee and made his way into the dimly lit tent. Taking a seat right in the center, he carefully crossed his legs and rested his hands upon his lap, his face growing to be unreadable. If what he believed was true, then the state this kid was surely in would be all his fault. After all, he was the one who had decided to keep him here without realizing the full extent in which he was being utilized for. He had just thought they kept him in a cage and nothing more.

Boy had he been wrong to stick to that one assumption.

The dread of anticipation steadily grew as the lights went out and a spotlight was placed upon the stage. Shifting anxiously within his chair, Cross narrowed his eyes slowly as a man in a burgundy red coat and black top hat came onto stage. His eye instantly went to the whip strapped to the man's belt and Cross' dread took another spike. God…he could think of only one use that whip may have, and only one person it may be used for. He just hoped he was wrong.

The man on stage cleared his throat loud enough to garner the crowd's attention and a hush quickly fell over as he began to speak. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to McQueen's traveling freak show. We have asked ourselves for years why. Why must there be evil in this world? Why must Satan torment us so? We have asked these questions on several occasions." The man directed his gaze to the audience as he paced back and forth across the stage before turning into the velvet curtains that were behind him.

"Who would be so twisted, so corrupted to carry out these atrocities that we are forced to face day by day? But now, ladies and gentlemen, I can give you your answer. For you see, Satan himself does not carry out these deeds of misfortune, oh no. He has his own kin do it for him."

Cross kept a steady gaze on McQueen as he came to a stop off to the right of the stage, the man giving a fervent glance to the curtains when an animalistic wail of distress filled the air, gasps soon coming from the crowd. Because of this, Cross, though he clearly didn't look it, was on the edge of his seat, his face still very much unreadable.

Shifting uncomfortable upon the stage, McQueen cleared his throat once more before continuing. "Several years ago, my men found one of Satan's spawns not far from our camp. Upon realizing what it was, we were quick to capture it in hopes of keeping it from carrying out its malicious deeds. Of course, we cannot account for all of Satan's other children, but we can say that this one has been closely guarded and properly dealt with.

"Ladies and gentlemen, what you are about to see is very much real. This is no trick. I ask that you try to remain in your seats. Any sudden movement may send the demon off."

Once more a hush fell upon the crowd and McQueen gave a cool grin. Walking over to a pulley, the ringleader grasped the thick strand tightly before saying, "I present you, Satan's spawn!" The curtains were pulled away and range of startled screams filled the air. Cross could only mentally groan as his anger started to boil. He had been right. And he hated that fact for once.

Twisting and turning on stage was Walker's brat.

People stared and gasped as they watched him struggle to get free, his right arm pulled away by someone offstage so tightly that one would thick his arm would be pulled out of its socket. His feet were bound to the floor by rivulets of rope tied to his ankles. A sack was over his head, causing his howls of outrage to sound muffled and distorted. Someone was holding securely onto the thick chain that was clamped to his right arm, the limb giving spastic twitches every now and again.

McQueen's cool smirk grew to a twisted smile. Slowly he advanced over to where his star stood baying like an animal and as he did this he said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I implore you that there is more to this creature then what you may think. This specimen gets even more sinister than it already is." Grasping the sack atop the boy's head, in one swift motion he pulled it off, revealing a crop of surprising white hair and grotesque scar. More gasps intermingled with screams filled the air at the very sight.

Frothy foam from enraged screams dripped down his chin and onto the floor, blood gushing from his nose as he whipped his head around in all directions. He bared his teeth out to the crowd, every so often lunging forward as best he could in an attempt to break free. His matted hair was styled in a way the stressed the left side of his face while keeping the right side away from view.

Maddened eyes darted to and fro, only to settle upon Cross's distinct form within the center of the crowd. The sight of him only fuelled his rage, his actions becoming even more ruthless then they already were. Cross could only stare back in silence. 'God…I've fucked up this kid's life even more than you, haven't I 14th?' Cross thought regretfully, his eye softening ever so slightly the longer he stared at the teen that had been his best friend's son.

Allen's actions were only stifled when McQueen suddenly took a hold of his left arm. Eyes widening with alarm, Allen was helpless to do anything as the man stretched the limb out and brought his thumb over the brilliant crystal that laid embedded in the back of his hand. "If you were not convinced before that this creature is a child of Satan's then you will surely be now." He stated before Allen pleadingly begged in a fearful undertone, "No, please don't!"

His words grew to wails as he begged for McQueen not to do what he had planned. Ignoring him, McQueen pressed his thumb down hard upon the crystal as he twisted the limb back and forth between unnatural positions. As soon as he did this, Allen's wails turned into blood curdling screams of unimaginable pain, his entire body writhing in spasms from the painful contact. Cross's blood soon ran cold as he watched the teen's deformed limb forcefully go about a transformation that it wasn't ready for.

Everyone but Cross rose from their chairs in disbelief as the entire limb transformed into a mighty claw, one that crashed down through the floorboards as soon as the transformation had been complete. Exhausted, Allen collapsed to his knees, his body covered by a coat of sweat. Coughing and struggling for breath, he couldn't stop himself from giving a dry heave onto the floor, the vomit mostly of bile and blood. Struggling against a losing battle to remain conscious, he momentarily closed his eyes for a second before he the end of the whip met his cheek in a quick lash.

Whimpering in pain, Allen struggled to move away, only to have his left arm held back with additional chains, his other arm still restricted of movement. To his utter humiliation, claps from the crowd were made, cheers filling the air. Allen warily brought his gaze back to the audience, renewed anger steadily rising. How could they cheer over something as sick as this? How could they praise his torture? How dare they think he was monster! If they believed he was a monster, then they'd seen nothing yet.

Once more his gaze drifted to Cross as he sat there, his face still very much unreadable. It angered him even more that this man wasn't doing anything to help him. Nothing that would show an inclination that he cared or even gave a damn. As frustrating as it was though, Allen wasn't mad that he wasn't doing anything. He was upset by the audacity the man had for showing up here to see his humiliation.

That fact alone was what pushed him over the edge.

Growling lightly in the back of his throat, Allen waited patiently for the perfect moment as McQueen pulled him to his feet. Watching him closely as he moved before him back and forth, not even bothering to listen to what he was saying, he waited until the man had stopped in front of him until he executed his plan. Mind on the audience as they talked amongst themselves, McQueen was unprepared for what was about to happen next.

"Thank you all for coming to see this traveling show, please tell your friends and neighbors that we'll—"

His words suddenly broke off when Allen lunged forward and bit down hard on McQueen's left ear. McQueen let out an alarmed scream that turned to one of pain as Allen continued gnashing his teeth together, easily drawing blood. The men holding his arms back slackened their holds out of shock and that was all he needed to break free.

With as much strength as he could muster, Allen yanked his arms free from the opposing men, chain and rope soon falling to the floor. In one swift motion Allen swung his large and unnatural left limb across the ropes at his ankles and right wrist, ignoring the sharp pain of the claws as they caught the skin at his ankles as well. Shaking away the chains, before they could hit to the floor he was off, leaping fearlessly into the now screaming crowd that were struggling to get away.

Feeling it was time to move, Cross fluidly rose to his feet and rushed after the escaping teen. Meanwhile, McQueen stood upon stage, a gloved hand clutched to his ear as he glared at his prized possession's receding form. Gnashing his teeth out of anger he called out to his men, "I want all of you to surround the area. Do not let that thing escape." Adrenaline numbing his pain, McQueen dropped his hand away from his hand and dug it into the inner pocket of his jacket, quickly pulling out the revolver he had been smart enough to bring.

Jumping off the stage, he was soon on the hunt. And whether that hunt led to a kill or not remained to be seen.

* * *

Allen panted deeply as sweat and blood dripped down his chin, his back pressed against an empty cage as he remained on the lookout for any of McQueen's men. Wiping away some of the beads of sweat at his forehead with the back of his hand, Allen sucked in a deep breath as he took a hold of his sagging left limb and lifted as much as he could off the ground. He would've preferred to simply drag it along behind him but this way ensured that he wouldn't be easily tracked. But the thing was cumbersome, forcing him to take dangerous periodic breaks every so often.

Stepping lightly forward, he stayed hidden in the shadows behind the back of the other cages, relieved that no one within those cages was giving him away. In fact, they were going out of their way to pretend he wasn't even there, keeping their backs turned to him as he crept his way forward. Sending them thankful glances as he ushered forward, Allen came to sudden halt when he heard the unexpected sound of approaching footsteps.

Shrinking back against a cage like a frightened animal, his back pressing against the surface as much as he could, Allen waited with a racing heart for the person to appear. And for the possibility that he may have to kill said person. Dropping his silver limb to the ground, Allen kept his body tense and prepared as he watched the shadow of the person grow, his heart racing as they finally rounded the corner. But to his surprise and relief, it wasn't anyone he should be worried about. It was only Molly, the dwarf-sized woman that had given him some proper company when no one else would.

"Allen! Thank God I found you!" she whispered in relief as she rushed over to his side, surprised to find him shying away from her when drew closer. Moving slower, as soon as she reached him, she pulled out a wet rag and began delicately dabbing away at his face.

"Listen to me Allen," she said as she wiped away the blood from his nose. "You're wasting your time by trying to be stealthy. McQueen and his men are looking all over for you. If you want to get out of here, you're going to have make a break for it. Don't stop. Don't ever stop. Just keep moving forward, no matter what. You understand that?"

Allen stared at her quizzically, her words sounding vaguely familiar to him. Then it hit him like a blow to the face. Mana…his father had said that to him before he died. He had to keep moving forward. He couldn't stop no matter what. He had promised Mana that. So now he had to make sure he kept that promise.

"Allen?"

Snapping out of his reverie, he whispered, "Thank you, Molly. Thank you for everything." With his one good arm he gave her a brief hug and a quick peck on the forehead before following her instructions and just making a clear dash for it. It was obviously filled with many risks, but being slow about it also had its risks as well. If he lingered around for too long he would surely be caught; making a run for it was the only chance he had of actually getting out of this hellhole. He would just have to make the gamble and put all his faith on this one drastic decision.

Molly watched with joy as Allen receded away into a quick blur, his left limp dragging dangerously upon the ground. Smiling to herself, tears in her eyes, she muttered, "Good luck…" before she turned back and attempted to stall for him as best as she could. After all, it was the only thing she could do to ensure that her friend got out of here to discover who he really was instead of a monster.

* * *

"Where the hell did that kid go?" mumbled Cross softly, his eye focused on any signs of movement that may suddenly sprout out.

Sitting crouched upon a overhanging tree branch, Cross surveyed the area before climbing up to a higher branch overhead, hoping that that would give a better aerial perspective. To his chagrin, it hardly made a difference.

Scowling, both for the fact that he had to find this boy and that he was forced to be in a tree, Cross pulled out a nastily fuming Timcanpy from his place in his breast pocket and ordered, "I want you to go see if you can go find that brat. Once you do, come straight back to me so you can lead me to him." The golden golem gave a nod before darting off, soon becoming nothing more than a gold blur.

Watching the creature disappear, Cross pulled out a cigarette and lit it before popping it into his mouth. Feeling a little better, he sat back and waited patiently in the shadows, his only functioning eye lazily kept on the twisted camp that he had kept the boy at. Had he had known that they had been treating him this cruelly, he would've broken him out of here a long time ago. After all, he had promised Walker that he would look after his brother and son and, well, he wasn't doing a very good job. At all.

How could he be so naïve? He should've known that this place would exploit this boy sooner or later; he was just surprised they had discovered that his arm could transform like that. But it wasn't smart of them to do that, to force an invocation like that, especially when the accommodator wasn't ready. It only brought unnecessary pain on the accommodator's part, putting a terrible strain on their bodies. For a parasitic-type though, the pain was all the more devastating; you couldn't just remove the innocence like an equipment-type now could you?

He should've done something different, maybe actually take the boy in instead of letting him rot here for seven years. He should've…oh who was he kidding! If he were given the chance to do this all over again, he'd probably do the same thing. Let's face it, he wasn't perfect and he liked doing things that benefited him. He only did things that would benefit him in the short or long run, no matter the consequences it may have on those around him. Maybe that's why his friend had died. He had been too selfish to see that their attack on the Earl was bound to get them killed. And he would've been fine if it had just been him, but, it had been the kid—it had been Allen who had been killed instead.

He regretted that selfish decision with each passing day.

The sight of something moving from below caught his attention and pulled him out of his somber thoughts that would've normally driven him to get wasted off of an assortment of liquor. Leaning forward, he spotted that disgusting ringleader McQueen stalking forward, oblivious to Cross' position up in the tree. To his dissatisfaction the man had a gun on him, a weapon he was surely going to use on the brat if and when he found him. Scowling, he prepared to drop down on the man when he came into range when he caught sight of the aforementioned brat rushing into the tree line a few feet off to the right. And the boy was making a dangerous amount of noise, enough to grab even that snake's attention.

Tightening his grip on the branch in aggravation he thought, 'You idiot! You're making too much noise to escape unnoticed!' Rolling his eye over the boy's stupidity, Cross braced himself as he jumped down from the tree to bare down on McQueen. Easily knocking him off his feet, the two began wrestling upon the ground in an attempt to gain control of the firearm the ringleader had. Cross sent a few solid punches to the man's face before he was kneed in the groin, the act causing him to moan in pain as he was pushed away.

McQueen glared down with feral eyes at Cross, his face red with anger. "I don't know who the hell you are, but don't get in my way." He warned, cocking the hammer of his revolver before keeping it pointed at Cross' head as he inched back slowly. Cross gave a light growl as he laid there in obvious pain, his red eye filling with shades of anger as McQueen rushed off to where the brat was.

Grumbling, after a few minutes Cross carefully got to his feet, pain still evident on his face. Panting, he growled, "No, you don't want to get in my way." Clenching his fists, he pushed himself to run forward, taking long strides in hopes of getting to McQueen before he could get to the idiotic brat.

* * *

Chest rising and falling rapidly as his heart raced, Allen sprinted forward as fast as he possibly could when he had a cumbersome appendage that was slowing him down. Following Molly's advise, he had made a break for it, not carrying about how much attention he may draw to himself doing such a thing. He had made it out of that dank place faster than he would've anticipated and though he would've liked to stop and rest, he knew he wasn't safe yet. He had to get out of this entire town before he was sure no one was going to follow him. Then he could make his way back to the place that had served as his home for the first half of his life. Granted, if they were there this time of year.

But first, in order to even get through the town, he had to get through this neck of woods.

Stumbling over his feet as he leapt over a fallen tree trunk, he was suddenly brought to a halt when his large claw caught on some of the stripped branches. Falling to the ground in a painful heap, Allen let out a cry as a sharp branch rubbed against his leg, creating a shallow gash. Biting his tongue, he pushed himself to his feet and began struggling to pull his limp claw free from the branches. At first he took his time, carefully pulling away the dead branches that snagged against his clawed digits. But when the sound of a gun being fired was heard and sparks flew from the impact the bullet made on his silver plated arm, Allen realized that he couldn't afford to dawdle.

Panic rising, he hastened his pace, grabbing hunks of branches and moving them out of the way as he fought to pull his arm free. Another shot was fired, this one also hitting his left arm once more. Thanking the fact that whatever substance made up his arm was strong enough to withstand bullets, Allen gave several strong heaves until finally the limb was pulled free. Sighing with relief, he continued on, narrowly missing another bullet that would've hit his head.

Light on his feet and careful where he went, Allen shot a fearful side glance off to the right, catching sight of McQueen hot on his tail. Fear spiking, he pushed himself to move faster, his body aching under the strain. Panting, hope flourished when he caught sight of the end of the tree line, this simple fact giving him the boost he needed to continue on. If he could make it out of the forest, then he was that much closer to freedom.

At least that's what he thought before he suddenly broke the tree line and came face to face with an ocean-side cliff.

Coming to a quick stop that saved him a trip down the side of the cliff, dread filled Allen as he stared wide eyed at the expanse of ocean that laid out before him. How could he forget about the ocean? How could he forget about that damn body of water? It was over now. His window for freedom had been closed. There would be no other chance after this.

"DAMN IT!" Allen screamed up to the heavens, tears welling up into his eyes.

Bowing his head, his body froze when he heard the sound of footsteps not too far behind him drawl to a stop, a strained snicker filling the air. Reluctantly turning around to face his fate, Allen stared at McQueen with a dejected expression on his face, his eyes momentarily drifting over to the revolver that was pointed at him.

"You know, if you come back willingly you won't be harmed." He negotiated, giving him a nasty smile.

Allen narrowed his eyes. He knew those words were nothing but a lie. If he went with him then he would be beaten to the point of near death, seeing as how they'd never actually go any farther than that. But he didn't want to face that anymore. He didn't want to face countless days of aggravating and debilitating pain. He wanted to be free so that he could go home. If he had to bite some bullets then so be it.

Lips curling back in a snarl, he hunched his shoulders forward and tensed his body, stressing his terribly emaciated form. Baring his teeth, he made a sudden dash off to the right, this decision causing McQueen to cock the hammer and pull back on the trigger, the firearm pointed right at Allen's chest. But right when he did this, Cross came rushing in, barreling right into McQueen and messing up his aim.

Cross delivered a solid blow to the back of McQueen's head with the butt of his own firearm, effectively knocking the man out. Grinning in triumph, Cross rose to his feet and dusted himself off. As he did this, Timcanpy came zooming towards him, smacking him against the side of his head. Steadily growing annoyed as the golem persisted, Cross turned to him and snapped, "What?"

Pointing forward with his tail, Cross brought his gaze over to where the golem was pointing and his heart skipped a beat. He watched as Allen swayed on the spot, a disoriented expression on his face as he took a few clumsy steps back, blood pouring down from a wound at his abdomen. Face growing pale and chalky, the teen's eyes soon rolled to the back of his head as he fell back and over the cliff. Right into the ocean.

As he fell, Allen was vaguely aware of what was happening, the rush of air through his hair informing him that he was falling. He could hear the loud splash that came when he hit the water's surface, thankfully unable to feel it. What remained of his senses were swarmed with suffocating amounts of salt water that burned his eyes and nose. The water seeped into his partially opened mouth, going down into his lungs.

Everything grew dimmer and hazier, his fear the only thing keeping him from slipping into unconsciousness. Was this it? Was this how he was going to die? After he had gone through all the trouble of trying to go home when nothing else would kill him, this was how it was going to end?

Then if that was so, then he'd be reunited with Mana. Such a thought brought him joy. He could see his father's face clear as day the longer his thoughts lingered upon Mana, a barely permissible smile gracing his lips. Consciousness ebbing away, Allen decided not to fight to stay awake, his body soon relaxing as he continued to sink, both mind and body soon drifting away into darkness.

_Author's Note: I've meant to update this sooner but something is wrong with fanfiction at the moment, and I couldn't update in the D. Gray-man category (this type 2 error has affected all but one of my stories, a story I don't intend to update until next month ironically.) But searching around the site, I've found some people who found out ways ofhow to bypass the error and update stories affected. If you're affected as well, send me a message, and I'll give you the link to the directions of bypassing the error. I give my credit to L.M. Avalon, who's method managed to work for me._


	18. Don't Let It Be

Author's Note: I use quite a bit of profanity in this between Allen and Cross, more than I would expect would be used in something rated T with some of the things I have them say to each other but this kind of usage will only be in this chapter (as of now, at least). Just thought I should let you all know. Enjoy!

Ch. 17

_'A cold wind blows_

_I am shivering_

_My body aches_

_As my heart is breaking_

_Why is life making me hollow?_

_Why is happiness casting me in the shadows?_

_In the shadows_

_Hold on, don't turn and walk away_

_Save me_

_And I cry these words, but nobody came_

_I'm all alone_

_Running scared_

_Losing my way in the dark_

_I tried to get up_

_Stand on a prayer_

_But I keep crashing down_

_This is my side of the story_

_Only my side of the story_

_Nobody cares_

_Nobody's there_

_No one will hear…_

_My side of the story'_

_-Hodges: My Side of the Story_

At the sight of Allen falling back off of the ocean side cliff, Cross immediately felt a spike of alarm before a rush of instincts took over. In a swift motion he tossed his broad-rimmed hat and one-sided mask off to the side as he ran forward, his eye kept on the spot Allen had once been. With trained ease he dived down, swiftly plunging down into the ocean's depths.

Senses immersed with burning salt water, the Exorcist General struggled to find the witless brat with his one and only functioning eye. Losing breath by the second, he struggled in search of him, his lungs steadily burning for the need of oxygen. Gritting his teeth, he promptly ignored the warning and continued his search, his own senses starting to become hazy. Moving his arms all around, he eventually brushed against something with his right arm. Turning, he spotted the brat floating limply within the ocean water, his left arm giving a flash before reverting back to its dormant state as a deformed appendage.

Swiftly Cross swam over to his unconscious form, looping an arm around his thin waist before giving strong kicks that sent him shooting up to the surface. With each second that passed, the need for oxygen grew steadily worse, his lungs filling with a burning sensation the longer they were without oxygen. Kicking evermore frantically, it came as a sweet relief as soon as his head broke the surface of the water, a loud gasp escaping his lips as air came rushing down his windpipe and into his lungs.

Heavy pants and gasps fell out of his mouth as he readjusted his hold of the fool, making sure that he remained above the surface of the water. Paddling forward, it took Cross a good few minutes before he made it to the shoreline. Once there, he promptly dropped Allen onto the ground before collapsing down in a wet and raggedy heap. Coughing and sputtering, the Exorcist General took a moment to gain back some of his strength, his body quickly feeling the effects of exhaustion set in as rivulets of water dripped down from his clothes and hair.

Eventually sitting up once he was sure that he could, his eye instantly fell upon the brat's form, dissatisfaction filling him upon noticing that he wasn't breathing. Gritting his teeth as a scowl grew upon his face Cross reluctantly made his way closer to the boy, rolling him onto his back once he was there. Tilting his head back and opening his mouth, Cross took in a deep breath before placing his own mouth over Allen's as he bent forward, mentally counting down the seconds as he breathed air into him. Once the seconds were up, he went on to do a few chest compressions.

He repeated this process about two more times until finally a convulsion rippled from the boy's stomach up to his throat, water soon issuing from his mouth as he coughed it up. Color rushing back into his cheeks, Allen gave a few rounds of fitful coughs before a moan of pain was suddenly made. Eyes glazed with pain fell shut soon after as he drifted once more into unconsciousness. Remembering the fact that the kid had been shot, Cross soon realized that it wouldn't be wise to leave the boy out here just to bleed to death. He had to take him somewhere where he could dress his wounds and maybe get him something to eat.

But it was going to cost him for this generous—at least for a man like Cross—deed.

Giving an ambiguous sigh, Cross carefully slipped one arm underneath the back of the boy's knees while the other went behind his neck. With great care he rose to his feet, nearly falling back down in the process. Tensing his muscles, he took a moment to steady himself before taking a few slow steps forward, and it didn't take long for his careful steps to become confident strides. As he walked forward he gave a somber look down at the pale and sweating form of the boy who would change the future. He had no doubt about it.

"I need you to stay alive just for a little while longer, kid. Then, I promise, when all this crap is over, I'll let your soul seek the rest and closure you so desperately crave." He mumbled, a small part of him feeling a spur of guilt over what he had in store for the brat when the time was right and he was ready.

But the feeling of guilt was fleeting.

* * *

When Allen's eyes opened once more, he was instantly greeted with the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. Confused and somewhat disoriented, he gave a few weary blinks before he chanced sitting up. But as soon as he did, he immediately regretted it.

Pain as hot as fire blazed at his abdomen, the sensation causing him to cry out in discomfort. Cringing inward as he clutched at the wound, body visibly trembling, a few seconds passed before Allen attempted to gain a better understanding of his surroundings once more. Looking up, guarded eyes scanned the strange room he had unknowingly been resting in. It wasn't very interesting he noted as he looked to the small desk and accompanying futon. Another bed was placed off to the left of the one he soon realized he was in, that one currently left unoccupied. In fact, the whole room appeared as though no one had occupied it, the place thoroughly clean and untouched.

Gaze turning back to the futon, he realized with a jolt that the trousers he had once been wearing were resting upon one of the cushions. Quickly and ignoring the sudden spike of pain that resulted from his next move, he peeled back the covers and found that a new, much cleaner and nicer looking pair of pants had been placed on him, a shirt now on his back instead of the naked torso he had grown accustom to. The feeling of something soft upon his upper body felt strange, foreign, and most of all, soothing. It helped ease some of the pain that lingered and nagged at his body

Running his fingers along the smooth fabric, he gave a start when he heard the door unexpectedly creak open. Scooting back until his back was pressed against the headboard of his bed, fearful eyes watched as the imposing figure of the half-mask wearing fiend that had been present when he had destroyed Mana's akuma sauntered in. For a moment, Cross was oblivious to the fact that his guest was awake until aforementioned person gave a feral growl.

Coming to a halt, he shifted his gaze over to the boy as an amused smirk grew on his face. "Hmph, glad to see you're finally awake." He gruffly remarked as he made his way over to the boy's bed. Noticing his advancements Allen reflexively shrank back, growing smaller as he tried his best to disappear. His actions caused Cross to come to yet another halt, an astonished expression now on his features. Sure, he knew the brat was bound to be screwed up in the head but never like this…this thing that was similar to a frighten dog after having received a brutal beating.

With much more care and caution Cross made his way to the foot of the boy's bed and took a seat. Keeping his gaze locked with Allen's, he slowly and deliberately pulled back the front of his coat as he dug a hand inside. Trying to seem less of a threat he carefully withdrew his hand and revealed to the boy a loaf of freshly baked bread and a bag full of cookies. He inwardly smirked at the sight of the grungy teen lapping at his lips slowly, a ravenous glint in his eyes. Looking to the food for a moment before returning it the boy Cross questioned, "You're starving, correct?"

He gave a nod.

"Would you do anything for this food?"

The boy looked unsure, a guarded look coming into his silver eyes. Cross soon realized that maybe he shouldn't have worded it in such a fashion. "I mean," he corrected, "Would you answer some questions for me if I were to give you this food?"

He shook his head.

Cross gave a sigh of aggravation. "What if I get you more, better tasting food? Would you do it then?"

He gave a slow and hesitant nod after a few seconds of thought. Inwardly, Cross groaned. 'Fine, have it your way. But I swear you'll be regretting it once you see these debts I now plan to give you.'

Tossing the bag of cookies over to the boy, he watched for moment as the teen scrambled forward, snatching the bag from the air before it had time to reach him. As he watched him ravenously stuff his face with various cookies with growing disgust Cross asked, "How old are you?"

Pausing in mid-bite, Allen swallowed his mouthful of food before answering in a hoarse voice that was whisper quiet. "F-Fifteen maybe…"

"Alright, what's your name?"

"Allen. Allen Walker." No hesitance was found in his subdued tone, almost holding what appeared to be a sense of pride. Cross's heart could only clench at his answer. This boy…with the exception of his younger and somewhat altered appearance, would essentially become a copy of his father. He'd fill his shoes in more ways than one. If the boy's hair wasn't bleached white and he didn't hold that eye-catching scar, he was certain that this is what the Musician had looked like back when he was a teenager.

Cross knew that names held not only significance but power as well. And it seemed as though fate had decreed that an Allen Walker should take up the mantle as the unwanted 14th Noah. It made it only canny that such an occurrence should happen with a boy who happened to be the orphaned son of the previous Musician. He almost wanted to laugh aloud at the irony such a situation posed.

Keeping his face neutral, he continued on by asking, "How long have you been at that freak show? Didn't you ever think of maybe, I don't know…escaping?"

Allen narrowed his eyes at the question, a dark tone coming into his voice as he seethed, "How long do you think I was there? Huh?" He caught Cross by surprise when he launched himself forward, knocking both Cross and him off the bed. Wincing in pain, he pinned the older man down on the floor with his right hand, his lips drawn back in a snarl.

"I've been at that hellhole ever since you tried to take me away, when you tried to take me away from my family! But I guess your little plan worked!" roared Allen, eyes blazing with hatred. "And who said I haven't thought of escaping? For years I've thought of escaping you fool! I've even thought of killing myself just to make that so!"

Staring blankly at the enraged teen, Cross felt slightly surprised and impressed by the defiance he was being faced with. He hadn't seen this much open resentment since, well, ever. Then again, he wasn't too thrilled by the fact that this mutt actually thought he could get away with walking all over him. It was time to teach him his place in this dictator-like relationship.

Upturning his palm slowly, he caught the boy by surprised when he swiftly thrust it up, squarely hitting him right where his poorly dressed wound was. As soon as he had made contact, Allen released an earsplitting wail, his face contorting in pain as he rolled off of Cross. With the weight lifted off of him, Cross got up into a kneeled position and glared squarely at his guest as he withered upon the ground in obvious pain.

"Don't get snippy with me, boy!" he warned, "I didn't have to save you back there. I could've just let you drown. Show some appreciation you ungrateful piece of shit!"

Allen continued to wither in pain, a fresh coat of sweat now on his face. Noticing this, Cross exhaled a slow breath before calmly adding, "It would be wise to not move so much. I'm not exactly a doctor so I couldn't extract the bullet from the wound at your abdomen. I suggest you take it easy and hope for the best."

"Piss off…" Allen moaned, only causing his capturer to seize him by the collar of his shirt.

"Hey! What did I just say?" bellowed Cross, earning a carefully executed shot of spit right in his face.

Reeling with disgust and fervently wiping away the oozing bit of saliva, his hold upon Allen's collar slackened and the teen immediately took this as an opportunity to pull away. Once free, he shot to his feet and rushed out the door, leaving behind a very bewildered Cross. For a moment he sat there, not quite comprehending what had just happened but when he did, it was easy to say that he had discovered a new level to being pissed off.

"Get the fuck back here you ignorant little brat!" he roared on the top of his lungs, scrambling forward out the door, Timcanpy fluttering right along behind him.

Running at full speed along the halls of the inn he had chosen to stay at, Cross quickly spotted the brat making his way down the stairs cautiously, his body leaning heavily against the railing while a hand was left pressed against his wound. Smiling devilishly, he rushed forward like a swooping hawk about to catch its prey and tackled the teen to the floor. With both his momentum and the boy's struggles, the two rolled the rest of the way down, startling the other guests with their boisterous caterwauling and derogative profanity.

"Let go of me!" Allen wailed as they made their way down the second flight of stairs that had been around the corner of the first.

"I will if you just calm the hell down!"

"Make me, you two-faced bastard!"

"Dipshit!"

"Jackass!"

"Whiny bitch!"

"Motherfucker!"

"Oh, that actually stung," Cross sneered jokingly, "Who told you?"

Growing ever more frustrated now that they had made it to the end of the stairwell and Cross had pinned him to the floor, Allen was through with their little game of name calling. Teeth gnashing, he bit down on the man's gloved hand and kneed him in the stomach, effectively winding him. Snaking his way out from underneath Cross's massive frame, Allen struggled to his feet, painfully aware of the fact that he now had a sprained ankle from their trip down the stairs. Hand placed firmly over the reopened wound at his abdomen, he rush out of the inn past startled guests with a limping gait, pain contorting his features.

Cross watched as he wheezed and coughed for air, anger evident on his face. Pushing himself up wearily onto his hands and knees, he stumbled up into a standing position and sluggishly made his way to the entrance of the end. Keeping his now broken left arm supported by his right, he watched the teen go, bitter defeat taking over the anger that had once been present.

"You won't last no more than two days out there on your own, kid!" he hollered, "Mark my words, you're going to be wishing you hadn't ran away from me. I have no intention of losing you again, you hear me? You can't elude me forever!"

The teen paid him no heed and continued making his way through the town, with every intention of making it back to the place that had once served as his home before any of this happened. Cross gave a frown before directing his attention over to the golden golem that fluttered beside his head. "Tim," he began, "Keep an eye on that there brat for me. Make sure he doesn't die out there. And make sure the Order's Exorcists end up finding him."

The golem gave what appeared to be a nod before darting forward, remaining at a safe distance from where the teen was half running, half limping. Sighing, Cross remarked to himself, "That kid's got a lot of spirit in him, just like his father. Hopefully that spirit will be what keeps him alive longer this time around. He's needed after all," he then added, "This won't be the last time we cross paths, Allen. You can be sure of that. This dark play is far from being finished."

* * *

For four days and four nights Allen wandered, very much lost and growing ever more confused with his rising delirium. Since his rather simple escape from that tyrant of a man, he had grown to regret his hasty decision, even attempting to make his way back to him when he realized that he had made a big mistake. But that only led him to get even more hopelessly lost. And the bad part about all this was the fact that he hasn't come across any semblance of a town or remote village in which he could seek temporary refuge. All he ever seemed to see was a never ending patch of forest.

With dawn upon him on what would now be his fifth day, the teen took a moment to sit back on the tree he had picked to sleep under the previous night. It had rained that night and by sitting under a tree, he had felt he would escape the chilling droplets. It turns out that that hadn't kept him dry whatsoever and now he sat upon soggy foliage, completely soaked to the bone. This fact did not help the already rising fever that had inflicted him just two days prior.

If he didn't get out of this forest to find help soon, then he was most surely going to die out here in the next day or so. The only questioned that he would be left asking himself if and when such a thing happened was how. After all, he had so many factors playing against him.

For starters, he was ravenously hungry. The bag of cookies he had ingested four days early had not even quailed the hunger from back then, much less having staved off the hunger he felt now for just a while longer. His ribs were severely prominent, each one countable, along with some of the other bones in his body such as those at his hips, shoulder blades, and cheek bones. Though he had been able to find water, that alone wouldn't keep him alive. Especially when, with each passing second, his body was slowly eating away at itself.

Then there was the fact that he had an opened wound at his abdomen. Because of his unkindly trip down those stairs those some days ago, the wound had reopened and had bled through all the way to his shirt. Thankfully it had stopped bleeding just two days ago, but he had lost quite a lot of blood, contributing to his dwindling sanity. And because of the lack of care that had been taken to clean and dress it anew, he was pretty sure the wound was infected at this point, which would explain the fever that had developed those two days ago.

He was basically a sitting duck the longer he sat out in the wilderness.

Shivering violent from the chill that ran all the way to his bones, Allen bit his cheek as he rose to his feet, pain burning all across his side and part of his right thigh. Scrunching his eyes tightly shut, a muffled scream roaring in the back of his throat, he took limping steps forward, swaying terribly on the spot. With a terribly slow pace he trudged forward, skirting around fallen tree branches and forlorn twigs and leaves.

As he continued on in his sluggish pace, a golden flying creature came into his line of vision, the frantic beating of its wings telling that the creature was worried. Allen gave a waned smile. His companion had returned after his two day disappearance. "Oh you're back," he mumbled, "I thought you said you had to go home? What are you still doing here?"

The golem circled his head several times, the teen following it with his eyes. For the first time in years, it appeared as though joy was on his face but it wasn't the normal kind of joy. It was the hysterical kind.

What he felt was from the psychosis he was sinking into. He thought the strange creature was just a part of one of the many hallucinations he was gradually experiencing and that it could actually talk back to him when he spoke. He wondered if the pink rabbit from yesterday would be joining them as well.

Though the golem gave no actual response, Allen spoke as if he had, "Well, I'm glad your parents decided it was ok for you to journey with me. I hope that's alright with you?"

Seconds passed before the smile furthered on his face. "Of course it's alright with me!" he said, "Come on, we've got to keep walking just like father said."

Stepping forward once more, the golem hung for a moment before catching up with the teen, tugging on a lock of his hair upon realizing that he was going the wrong way. Tim should know, he had been looking for the nearest town for two days and when he had found one, he had gone straight back to the mentally and physically sick teen.

Swatting the winged creature away he snapped, "It isn't nice to pull on people's hair, Tim!" The golem seized in his actions and proceeded to point him in the right direction with his tail. Staring out stupidly for a moment with his mouth slightly hanging open, he eventually asked, "You want me to go that way?"

The golem gave something akin to a nod with its entire body.

The smile from before returned to the boy's dirtied face. "Well ok then, if you want us to go that way then alright!"

Unquestionably Allen followed the golem, all the worries he had felt prior washed away by the mere presence of his so called 'talkative' friend.

* * *

Allen and Timcanpy travelled through the forest for several hours and it wasn't until dusk did they finally made their exit. Upon doing so, the teen could only smile, relieved to have finally made it out of the seemingly never ending forest. But by now he was past the point of exhaustion and because the golem had never allotted him any breaks in between their arduous journey, his gunshot wound had begun to bleed again.

Fatigue on his features, he limped forward, distant memories resurfacing at the sight of some of the familiar scenery in the distance. He remembered that bank off in the far right, and that postal service straight across from it. He remembered those clusters of trees and those patches daffodils, and the way the wind seemed to whistle when it brushed through the grass. He had been he before. But it had been a long time ago.

"You're trying to take me home, aren't you Tim?" Allen asked with growing appreciation. Maybe this figment of his imagination wasn't so bad after all. He had provided him with thorough companionship, stimulating conversation, and, to top it all off, had guided him right where he needed to go.

The golem gave a toothy grin as it hovered beside the exhausted teen. Tears could be seen forming in the corner of his eyes, appreciation thick on his face. Sniffing, he continued on, his feet leading him to a currently unknown destination. His first thought was why he was taking this direction when he really should be looking for any signs of his former troupe, but it soon dawned on him as to where he was going and silent tears were soon freed.

As blades of grass bent under the weight of his bare and blistered feet, before he could even make it to his desired destination, he collapsed down in a tired heap, sweat covering his entire body. Panting heavily, he took a moment to regain some semblance of breath before trying to get back up, only to find that he couldn't. Cursing, more tears fell from his eyes as he clutched at the grass he now laid upon, his strength diminishing.

He was almost there, he thought. He only had a few more feet to travel before he made it to where he needed to go. He could make it. What were a few feet in comparison to the countless miles he had traversed? This thought gave him just enough determination to push himself to his hands and knees and crawl the rest of the way there. It was a slow and painful process but when he was there, he could hardly keep himself from beaming.

Sitting back on his knees, he felt the little golem land upon his shoulder as he stared out at the cross-shaped tombstone. Running his right hand along the letters that were carved into the stone, Allen softly murmured, "I've come to you, father. Sorry I haven't visited you since your death. It's…it's all a very long story." Smiling softly as he gazed fondly at the slab of corroding stone, he suddenly heard the sound of steps in the distance. At first he made nothing of it, preferring to gaze at the marker that held his father's name. But when the footsteps came to a sudden halt, he soon grew to be curious as to who would decide to visit this out of place grave.

"What do you think you are doing there you filthy scoundrel?" a feminine voice demanded, outrage in their tone.

In the back of his mind he realized that he recognized that voice and, out of curiosity, he turned his head to the person was quickly overfilled with joy. He knew that gentle face anywhere.

"Alina…" he softly whispered, the uttered name carried to the woman's ears by the gentle breeze.

How could this vagabond know her name, she thought warily as they stared at one another, a guarded expression on her face while his held a serene gaze that suggest contentment, his entire face seemingly smiling. But the longer she stared into those silver eyes of his, so full of mirth and joy despite the tears, she realized with astonishment that she knew him. But he hadn't been like this the last time she had seen him those seven years ago. He hadn't had long white hair or that ghastly scar on his left cheek.

He wasn't that childish boy she had once known; he was a boy well on his way to be considered a man now. But, even so, he still held a hint of the child he had been in those remarkable silver eyes of his and the woman couldn't hold back the tears that had suddenly came to her eyes over her growing realization.

"Allen…? I-Is that you?" asked Alina in a trembling voice, her tears cascading down even fiercer when the teen's smile deepened. He didn't need to answer her. She already knew.

In one fluid motion she rushed to him, falling to her knees and ensnaring him in a tender embrace as she sobbed. As she did this, Allen rested his chin upon her shawl covered shoulder, his arms left hanging at his sides. Tears fell gently down his pale cheeks, a sorrowful expression on his face as he murmured to himself, "Please…tell me this isn't a dream. Don't let it be a dream."

"It isn't, Allen," she insisted, "This is real."


	19. Welcome Home

Ch. 18

'_Precious and fragile things_

_Need special handling_

_My God what have we done to you?_

_We always try to share_

_The tenderest of care_

_Now look what we we've put you through…'_

_-Depeche Mode: Precious_

Alina could feel her heart clench as the doctor gave a heavy sigh, his grizzled hand going up to wipe away the sweat from his brow. Putting away the tweezers, thimble and thread in his black leather bag, he quickly replaced those items with a stream of gauze and medical tape. Delicately he began bandaging the numerous bruises and cuts that adorned the teen's body as well as placing a splint upon his broken and swollen ankle.

It took a few fleeting moments of this monotonous task before the doctor returned his materials to his bag and rose to his feet once more. He kept his back to the gypsy as he gazed down with tired eyes at the sleeping teen, a grave expression on his aged face. Exhaling slowly, he finally turned to Alina, his expression not at all reassuring.

"I'm afraid I've done all I can for him," murmured the doctor sympathetically, "He's at God's mercy now."

"Please, there has to another way, something else you can do for him." She begged earnestly as she followed him out of the tent, desperation heavy in her dark eyes.

The doctor turned to her and empathy came over his features. A somber frown came onto his face as he assured her in a strained voice, "I shall be back tomorrow morning to see if anything has changed. In the meantime, try getting his fever down and make sure he consumes something easily digestible. Should he wake up before I return, then advice him not to move so much otherwise he'll rip open the stitches."

"Doctor Grayson, please!" pleaded Alina as she took a hold of his arm as he moved to leave.

The older man could only shake her away with a tearing heart, unable to stand to see her distraught state any longer. "There is nothing more I can do for him. I'm sorry." He said as he continued making his way out of the tent over to his horse drawn buggy.

The gypsy watched him go in utter despair, her face flashing with all different kinds of emotion as she turned back to the tent. Watery eyes fell upon the teen's barely permissible shaking body, his face hardly relaxed as he laid there, fighting for his life. She didn't fail to see the way his right hand clenched upon the fabric of his covers, a light whimper escaping his lips.

The sight managed to bring forth a few tears from her eyes but Alina bravely pushed it aside in hopes of remaining strong for them both. Slowly she made her way towards him, stopping only to get the bucket of water and rag that she had placed off to the side. Once to his bedside she carefully got down on her knees as she wrung the rag of excess water before placing it gingerly upon his hot and sweaty forehead.

From then on she sat there, hoping, praying that by some miracle that he would make it through the night. She refused to lose him again.

* * *

_He felt cold. _

_Cold and alone. _

_Cold and alone and strangely…at peace._

_Where was he, he thought to himself as eyes that held a burning flame of resilience and flecks of confusion. Slowly, he sat up, his eyes falling upon nothing but darkness. But unlike that of his perpetual nightmare, this kind of darkness gave him comfort and reassurance. And it held a vague familiarity to it, one of which he hadn't felt in quite some many years. _

_Its undetectable tresses soothed him, easing away the pain of seven years from his body and giving him the strength he needed to rise up to his feet. As he did this, he suddenly found himself turned back in time, to the point when he was eight years old again. Judging by the stinging ache that burned on the left side of his face and the barely perceivable wisps of the beginnings of white hair, he was at that point in age in which he had destroyed the very thing he had created. Mana's akuma._

_A rush of warmth could be felt in the distance, heralding the approach of another being in this dreamscape of sorts. Blinking wearily as the warm feeling drew closer, a light soon approached him as well. The light grew and grew until he was unable to properly see and he was forced to shut his eyes as a means of keeping him from going blind. _

_Just as fast the light had appeared, it was gone, the energy steadily dimming down to a hallow glow. Slowly opening his eyes with wary hesitance, the boy soon gave a start when he was face to face with the flap of a tent, the dim glow of a gas lamp just barely perceivable from the thin opening. Swallowing nervously, trembling hands drew up to pull back on the flap, his vision soon falling upon two figures. One was sitting upon a foldable bed while the other stood in the far corner, shadows severely obscuring his features. _

_But he didn't really care much about the presence of the latter. All he cared about was the presence of the former, the man giving him a beckoning smile._

_"__Hello Allen," spoke Mana tenderly, "It's been a while, son."_

_Allen was oblivious to how the stranger in the corner had stiffened, even going as far as to flinch as the boy launched himself into the other man's arms, pure affection coming onto his features._

_"__I've missed you father!" the child cried, tears of joy and longing coming to his eyes as he hugged the man._

_"__And I've missed you, little one." Mana replied as he patted the boy on the back._

_For a moment they just sat there, comforted by the other's embrace. But Mana realized that time was short and he needed to give the boy the strength he needed to hold on. His destiny was still far from being fulfilled. _

_Pulling away from the comforting embrace, Mana made sure to keep the child's attention focused on him for what he had to say was important if he wished to succeed in the future. Gripping the boy by shoulders, his face took on a serious expression as he began, "Allen, what I'm about to say is very important and I need you to pay attention."_

_"__Of course," he agreed, his own face become serious yet still entranced with wonder. Just what was it that was so important, he wondered?_

_"__I know how difficult it must be for you to hang in there, but you must. You mustn't let the security of the light at the end of the tunnel draw you away from what you must do." Mana replied almost earnestly, his hold tightening around the boy's shoulders._

_"__What do you mean…?" asked Allen, confused by his father's words. But it soon became clear just what Mana was talking about._

_"__Child…you're on the brink between life and death," Mana noticed the confusion turn into horror in the boy's eyes and he had to force himself to continue, "But I'm afraid it isn't your time to be joining us, son. There's still so much the world needs from you, so much you need to do before it's your time."_

_Allen remained silent for a moment as he took a moment to digest his father's words. After a few seconds of him shifting uncomfortably upon the man's lap, he slowly began gnawing on his bottom lip anxiously. Hands balling into fists as they clutched at the fabric of Mana's pants, Allen soon asked in a quiet voice, "But…what if I don't want to be in the world anymore? What if…what if I don't have the strength to do what the world wants me to do? I'm scared, Mana…"_

_Before he was given a reply from his father, Allen suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around his body, pulling him away from Mana's lap. For a moment Allen resisted, squirming under the other man's hold. But he soon relaxed when the man sat down upon the floor, crossing his legs and setting the boy down on his own lap. Thankfully he was still facing Mana, a reassuring gaze on his aged face that told him that he had no reason to fear the man that he was now sitting upon._

_A gentle hand swept through Allen's hair as he was pulled back against the man's chest, now able to feel the man's heartbeat skipping within. It was strangely soothing to feel. _

_"__You'll have the strength to do what needs to be done. Trust me…Allen. You are a Walker, and Walkers are not known for giving up. We do everything we can to make sure we succeed in whatever it is that we must do. You are no exception."_

_"__But," Allen paused, once more biting his bottom lip, "What if I fail?"_

_The unidentifiable stranger gave a light chuckle of amusement. "Child…I know you will not fail. And even if you did find yourself straying down that road, I also know that you'd find a way to get back on the path that you are destined to follow. I have faith in you."_

_"__And my faith as well." Mana added as his smile furthered._

_Allen felt somewhat reassured but couldn't help it if doubt still lingered upon his conscious. "How can you say that? You don't know whether I'll succeed or fail." he asked, not so much as an acquisition but rather a question driven by curiosity._

_"__Because…you are God's most cherished child, Allen. You are the grey in a world of black and white."_

_"__What do you mean?"_

_"__I'm afraid you'll have to discover the answer to that yourself," the man replied, a hint of laughter in his voice._

_Allen heaved a heavy sigh. Why did this all sound like it was way more complicated and difficult than how they were making it out to be? Why couldn't they just spell it out to him and tell him what exactly needed to be done? How was he supposed to know what to do if they didn't tell him? This was all just very frustrating!_

_Shaking his head back and forth, Allen reluctantly sighed, "Well alright, if you two seem so adamant about it, then I guess I'll give it a shot," his eyes suddenly grew sadden as he looked to Mana and added, "I'm sorry Mana."_

_"__Whatever for, child?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting together in honest puzzlement._

_"__For making you an akuma," replied Allen thickly, trying desperately not to cry. _

_He was afraid the man would turn on him for having brought it up but he knew he'd never find peace if he wasn't forgiven. But it came as a surprise when the man didn't start yelling and simply gave him the same smile that had still been on his face when he had reunited with him._

_"__Allen," he began carefully, "I do not blame you for what you did to me because honestly, if the roles had been in reversed, I would've done the same thing. I am very proud and very glad that you were able to do the right thing. You saved me, Allen, and for that, I am grateful." _

_Allen gave a watery smile as a few tears managed to make it past his eyes. Wiping away at them ruefully with the back of his hand, the boy took a few breaths to calm himself. After a few seconds his composure managed to return and it was then that realized that Mana was standing before him, a goofy grin on his face as he offered him a hand. For a moment Allen simply stared at the hand, unsure of what to do until he said, "Whatever happens, know that we will always be there with you."_

_Smiling as well, Allen took a hold of his larger hand and allowed himself to be pulled up to his feet, soon finding himself back to the age he was now. Trying not to let his alarm of now being only a half a foot shorter than the Clown show in his eyes, the cursed teen tightened the hold on their clasped hands. "I know you will, Mana," Allen replied softly, oblivious to the fact that the Clown had referred to more than one person._

_Mana seemed to realize this because he added, "I won't be the only one with you during these dark times, because I alone will not be able to help you." As if sensing the question that was obvious in the teen's mind, he gestured with his head over to the person behind Allen, reminding him that they were surely not alone. _

_Reminded of this, an unasked question suddenly returned to the forefront of Allen's mind and he soon found his hand falling away from Mana's, his body beginning to turn around as he asked, "By the way, who are you?" _

_Before he could catch a glance, he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace, the stranger's arms holding him tight and fiercely. Allen stiffened from the contact, not sure of how to make of it as he stood there frozen. Mouth gaping in surprise, he turned to the man, his eyes only falling upon the back of the man's head, his hair a dark mahogany tousled in a rather unruly fashion. _

_"__I'm…" began the man in a trembling tone as he tightened his hold upon the teen, almost desperately refusing to let go. Allen could only imagine why. "I'm…your—"_

_The words that followed soon became indecipherable as, like glass, the dream shattered, leaving him tumbling down once more in the sea of darkness. _

* * *

Awareness steadily returned to Allen as his eyes slowly crept open, his vision distorted and blurry from sleep. It took a few blinks for him to discover that he was in some kind of tent, placed upon a lumpy cot. The sight made him instinctively stiffen, a part of him fearing he was back in McQueen's sideshow.

But of course the man would've never given him the luxury of sleeping in a bed so that option was soon out the door. And it couldn't be that man, Cross, because this wasn't the inn he had been brought to. So if it wasn't any of them, then where was he?

The sound of distant voices just barely made it to his ears, his attention soon focused on the entrance of the tent he was currently occupying. At first the words were broken and indecipherable, but as his sense of hearing steadily began returning, it didn't take him long to figure out that whoever were outside were talking about him.

"—are you sure it's him?"

"Of course I'm sure! How many people do you know that have a red, deformed limb?"

"Touché…"

Another voice soon entered the conversation, this one belonging to another woman. "Why didn't you tell us sooner that you found him?"

"Because I wasn't sure he'd make it…" the second voice admitted, despair noted in her tone.

"Can we see him?" asked a much more youthful sounding male, a hint of anticipation ringing within his words.

Allen sat up slowly, his body tensing at the sight of familiar faces as they came ushering into the tent, surprise on both parties faces as they stared back at one another. For a moment the injured teen sat there in momentary awe, completely stunned by the fact that so many familiar faces were appearing at once. But this soon became too much for the mentally unstable teen to bare, his senses becoming overloaded by waves of thoughts and feelings that he just wasn't able to handle at the given moment. He couldn't help but scoot back when they stepped forward.

The group of four stiffened over the long lost member's actions, all of them coming to a reluctant stop. Out of the four, Alina was the only to approach, shock and gratitude on her face despite the obvious confliction that played on Allen's when she advanced towards him. He scooted back even more, face paling from the pain that protested from the involuntary movement.

"Allen," Alina murmured softly, "Please…try not to move so much."

Her hand was just inches from his shoulder, the tips of her fingers skimming the bare skin for only a split second. But in that split second the whole world seem to turn upside down.

The simple touch sent him scrambling away, falling clumsily to the floor before weakly crawling to away to a safe corner away from them all. There he sat, wild eyes darting amongst them as he pulled his legs against his heaving chest, flickers of pain and discomfort registering in his frantic features. All four remained stunned, eyes open wide with surprise and alarmed. None had expected the sight in which they beheld…the sight of their long lost member returned to them as some broken teen. It was honestly shocking, to say the least.

"Alina, maybe you're mistaken." Matthew whispered softly as he turned to the gypsy. "This guy can't possibly be that little scamp from way back when. I mean look at him, he's a complete—"

"Don't!"

Both the Gypsy and the Acrobat turned to the Cook as she stared at them through partially narrowed eyes, her expression reprehensive. All fell silent as they watched Bell cautiously take slow steps forward towards where Allen sat huddled up, his perturbed gaze focused on no one but her for the moment. As she made her way to him, she sent a fervently glance over to the younger acrobat, Narein, then moving it over to a book that laid randomly within the tent before bringing it back to the traumatized teen in the corner.

She hoped he got what she was trying to convey to him, just in case things took a nasty turn for the worse…

Crouching down, Bell slowly scooted closer to Allen, being very deliberate with her movements so that he could quickly understand what each move would be before they were actually carried out. Still he trembled in her wake, curling into himself the closer she drew to him. She was only a foot away when she came to stop when he pleadingly whispered, "Please…don't come any closer…"

"Allen…it's me, Bell," she softly murmured, taking another small scoot forward carefully. "I use to make you all those meals you liked so much back when you were just a little boy…don't you remember?"

Allen looked to her for a moment, his eyes clouded with confusion and pain as he sifted through the better parts of his memory, struggling to retrieve the stream of memories that were connected to that one name. It was sad to say that it took him some time—much more than it had for Alina's—given the fact he was under a great deal of stress and had desperately suppressed his time back at the Circus in a half-hearted attempt to protect what good memories he did have left. So, needless to say, it took him a few moments to fish out a proper recollection before he was able to place the name with a face from his memory.

"…B-Bell…" he repeated to himself, testing out the name upon his own tongue and soon marveling over how familiar it felt. For a moment a ghost of a smile fleeted across his lips. But then a look of horror overwhelmed his features. "Is this a dream? Am I still dreaming?"

The anxiousness in his tone was sadly noted, and Alina had to look away in order to keep herself from letting her despair take an even tighter hold upon her heart. She remembered when Allen had questioned her about the reality of the situation, afraid that it was nothing more than a glorious dream trying to cushion the blow of whatever reality he may have faced prior to his return.

It was clear that he was more than just sick in the typical usage of the term.

"No, honey, it isn't," Bell replied gently, sitting back. She was only half a foot away from him now, a fact he didn't seem to be aware of.

He gave a wavering smile that turned a bitter grin. "Then, I guess…Mana really is dead," he mumbled under his breath, drawing his legs closer to his chest as he rested his chin on his knees and closed his eyes. "At least he's happy and doesn't blame me for anything…"

Bell furrowed her brow before turning her gaze over to the rest of her party, all of whom were giving simple shrugs in response. None of them knew what he meant by his words and some weren't too keen on finding out. Regardless though some weren't just going to let such a thing slip by without going unnoticed.

"What do you mean he doesn't blame you for anything?" Bell questioned, "Did you do something that Mana might have thought was wrong?"

"Yes…" he whispered in a trembling tone that sounded so pitiful and so small.

"What did you do?" she prompt.

"I turned him into a…an akuma."

"Akuma? Allen, what is—"

"And you never want to do that, nope. Akuma are angry, sorrowful, bitter creatures that try to kill you when you call for someone. Sorrow, they come to its call. Just an ounce of it is all they need to be summoned." He looked from his knees and an almost deranged smile contorted his features. "And, hehe, the sad thing is…you don't realize what you've done is an act of sin because you don't care. You never once question the reasonability of seeing a dead love one again, even in that grotesque skeletal form. All you care about is being with them again, to hear them call your name. That's all I cared about…"

"The kid's lost it!" Matthew declared as he threw up his arms in exasperation. All heads turned to him as he continued, "Who ever heard of a goddamn akuma before, huh? Obviously he's just making up stories for his own sake. He isn't thinking clearly, hasn't this whole conversation."

"Matthew…"

"Don't try to calm me down Alina because I know you know what I'm saying is true," he snapped, his gaze turning to hers for a second before returning to Bell and Allen. "I'll admit that this boy is Allen only on the basis of his arm but he is NOT the same boy we all once knew. He isn't the very same boy that we all helped raise."

"But it isn't his fault!" Alina cried, upset that Matthew would ever say something like that, especially in front of Allen's face.

"I'm not saying it is," he conquered, "I'm just saying to don't expect things to fall back to the way they were before he left because it won't. The Allen we knew is gone."

"Will you two just stop it!"

The two turned their locked gazes over to Bell, her eyes fuming with irritation and anger. "If you wish to argue then do it somewhere else. Allen doesn't need to hear you speak of him in such an ungrateful manner." Before waiting for a reply the Cook turned back to the trembling teen who looked on in renewed fear. Smiling gently she murmured softly, "Don't you worry, Allen. You may be sick now, but we're going to make you get as good as new before you know it."

"You can't fix me…" Allen denied sadly.

"Well, not with that attitude we can't!" she responded with a meek chuckle.

"You don't understand," he whimpered, "I'm a monster, a freak."

"You are no such thing."

"Yes I am!" he cried, lifting up his left arm as proof while tears welded up in his broken eyes. "You haven't seen the things I've seen. You haven't felt the pain I've felt. I-I could kill you with this very arm if I wanted to!"

"No you couldn't," she shook her head knowingly.

Gasps rung through the air as his left arm suddenly shot forward in a bout of swiftness that no one thought possible, even for a normal limb. Allen kept a firm grip around her neck, his eyes filling with even more tears as he darkly growled, "Do not…presume you know what I'm capable of doing. I can kill you. Because. I'm. A. MONSTER!"

Bell looked to the traumatized teen for a moment before taking a hold upon his red hand with both of her own. Not a trace of fear was on her aged face. "You're not a monster, Allen and you can't kill me," she spoke calmly, her words causing his grip to slacken. Gently she moved his hand away, carefully resting it upon her lap as she rubbed one of her thumbs across the rough surface."Because I know you would never let that happen."

A lone tear slid down his cheek as he stared down at their joined hands, his face contorting into sadness as his bottom lip trembled. He fought his spiking emotions for a moment before letting a sob finally escape. He fell forward after that, weeping heavily onto her lap as he desperately gripped her long skirt. "Forgive me! I'm sorry, Bell…I'm so sorry…" he wailed, sucking in a deep breath as another body wracking sob tumbled past his lips.

She quietly shushed him, rubbing his trembling back soothingly.

"Help me, please! I don't want to be evil; I don't want to be a monster," Allen desperately pleaded into her lap, "I want to be good! I want to be a good person who doesn't hurt the people he loves. Make me a good person…please…"

Bell slowly stroked the back of his dirtied, unruly, long white hair. A smile was on her face despite the tears that streaked her own cheeks.

"I will, I promise," she whispered as she leaned down a placed a tender kiss upon the back of his head. Gently she pulled him into her arms, allowing him to cry upon her shoulder instead as she massaged his welt-covered back with calming circles. Resting her chin upon his shoulder, the two cried in the other's embrace, uncaring of the amazed stares that were being sent their way as the others quietly watched.

"Welcome home, Allen Walker."

* * *

Komui looked up from his thoughts at the sound of his office door being pushed open, his gaze immediately falling upon the forms of the three that he had summoned for just a while ago. Ever since he had received that vague phone call from none other than Cross, he had contemplated on what course of action they should take. Of course, on one hand, they should go but on the other they should wait for more information to present itself.

Deciding between the two was truly vexing but in the end he finally made his decision.

"I am sure you all are aware of the little phone call I received a day or so ago, as I am sure you know that the caller was none other than General Cross."

The three gave slow nods, not quite sure where this conversation was leading to.

"Well, he provided me with a very interesting set of news. It seems as though an accommodator is residing within Cantebury, which isn't too far off from where we are. I'm assigning you three the task of retrieving them and taking them back here. A carriage has been set up for you all and is prepared to leave whenever you're ready."

All three gave their regards before departing, exited the room soon enough. Once again Komui was left alone to stew with his thoughts, his mind going to Cross. Just why had he called in such a fashion? Better yet, why had he not returned after all these years? For a while he had just assumed that the General had simply kicked the bucket but that would be sourly undermining his competence. Cross was better than that. Besides, death probably didn't want anything to do with him.

"Just what are you planning…" he mused aloud, his eyes falling upon the file folder on his desk covering the basic information detail and field reports of General Cross himself.

* * *

_Author's Note: Man...you've got to be kidding me! This story is already a year old! Can you believe that? I sure can't! Damn, I missed the actual date though. _

_But wow...I-I honestly never thought this story would generate such popularity. I'm not even half way finished and already I have over 100 reviews! You all are just awesome! I want to thank all those who were overly generous enough to review/favorite/alert this story. You all are just too kind! And to those who reviewed, it makes me so happy reading each of your reviews and sorry if I was unable to reply to some of them . Your kind, eager words are what keep me going. As a gift, I WILL update this story again sometime in the next week, which...may not seem like much but it is a guaranteed vow that I update sooner than I've been doing lately. Take care everyone! Hope you all stick around long enough to see this story reach its distant but inevitable end._


	20. Open Your Eyes

Ch. 19

'_All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places_

_Worn out faces_

_Hide my head_

_I want to drown my sorrow_

_No tomorrow_

_No tomorrow'_

_-Michael Andrews: Mad World_

Bell and Alina looked on at a safe distance as Allen sat rigidly upon his bed, his legs drawn to his chest while his chin rested on his crossed arms, his eyes staring blankly at the space in front of him. Both women held looks of concern as they watched the young teen closely, the boy having hardly said a word outside of the necessity in hours after he had awoken.

Once things had settled down and they had gotten Allen to return to his bed, Narein had been the one sent to retrieve the local doctor, Doctor Grayson. The two had returned not too long after, amazement clearly evident on the doctor's face as he took in Allen's awake and aware form huddled upon the lumpy cot. He had muttered something that showed his amazement before ushering forward, greeted by a very unwilling teen that fought and screamed whenever he attempted to touch him.

If it hadn't been for Bell stepping in when she had, Doctor Grayson wouldn't have been able to make a thorough diagnostic. Though it did give rise to some, much more troubling findings.

"_Though I must admit, I'm no expert," Doctor Grayson remarked as he sat at a table set up outside of the tent with Alina, Bell, and Matthew sitting across from him. "It would appear that he has experienced something akin to a psychotic break."_

"_What does that mean exactly? That…that Allen is just crazy!" Alina questioned defensively, unwilling to accept such a possibility even when it was likely. _

_Vaguely, she remembered having faced this kind of denial from Mana when she how posed the fact that he was different. Now she understood why he had gotten so upset, so angry. It was because he hadn't wanted him to be different. He had wanted him to be normal, just as she was wanting now. _

"_That's not what I'm saying at all, ma'am. What I am saying is that that young man is simply very confused and very upset. Now, it could be from whatever gave him those injuries, or it could stem from a much deeper, personal cause." He paused for a second, turning his gaze over briefly to see Narein quietly talking to the unresponsive teen as he sat in silence. "I-I was told the boy's father had been killed in an accident several years ago."_

"_Are you suggesting that Allen's still hung up about something that happened seven years ago?" Matthew asked, slightly baffled that such a ludicrous could happen. He loved Allen and all, but this was just ridiculous!_

"_I wouldn't out rule it as a possibility considering the fact that he left so suddenly just after his death. But it could also be from whatever treatment he was given in those seven years of his absence."_

"_What do you suggest we do to help him, Doctor Grayson?" Bell asked softly._

"_My honest advice?"_

_She nodded._

"_I say the best thing any of you can do is to just talk to him. Coax him out of his depression, be patient when he doesn't respond, do whatever you can to make him know that, when he is ready, he has people who are able and willing to listen to him. I've heard that this is rough, but I must implore that you don't give up. Giving up would only show that you don't care, and if you don't care then what shall be the point?"_

"_I see…" Bell remarked somberly, "This will work out in the end though, right?"_

"_Like I said, I'm no expert on this subject area. But you all must understand, this is not something that can be remedied or healed by any medicine or vaccine. It must be healed through time, care, patience, and love. I believe, in time, he will come around. But only when he is ready to."_

"_Is there anything else we should know about?" Matthew asked._

"_Well…he did do a number to those stitches I put in earlier so I had to replace them. He didn't seem to have aggravated his ankle, but just to be on the safe side, I replaced the splint. As I instructed Miss Alina here earlier, make sure he doesn't make too much unnecessary movement, give him something that is easily digestible and light on his stomach. His fever has broken, so that's a good sign. But I've prescribed some medicines for him in case he…acts up." _

"_Thank you, Doctor Grayson." Matthew replied as the four adults rose from their chairs and exchanged their polite farewells._

"I'm worried about him, Bell," Alina admitted as she took a hold of the tray of food the Cook had gone out of her way to prepare. "The darkness around him is thick and dangerous."

"Is that coming from just fact, or is it something you're picking up from your gypsy magic?" she asked, her lips twisting in mild amusement. She wasn't much for Alina's so called 'fortune-telling', being one more attuned to religion, but she was very tolerable and accepting of the younger woman's chosen life style. Far be it from her to tell her just how she should run her life.

Alina gave a halfhearted smile in return. "I guess it's a little bit of both."

"Well, I may not be as affixed to whatever force that gypsies like you turn to whenever you see these sorts of things, but I must admit, I can't help feeling that in some way, your right. All I know is that it's something we don't understand, and maybe, we aren't supposed to."

"I guess you're right…" she remarked as she passed the tray over to the older woman and watched her bring it to Allen.

Silently she watched as she took the tray over to the silent boy, setting it upon the bedside table as she took a seat in the nearby chair. With delicate and caring hands she pulled his arms away—thankfully without protest—and pushed his legs down so that they laid flat upon the clean linens. Then she moved the tray over to his lap, murmuring a few words the Gypsy couldn't quite hear that garnered a one worded response from the boy.

He took a hold of the spoon with his right hand and delicately began taking sips of the broth that had been prepared for him. She noted with dismay that his left arm hung limply at his side, lying uselessly upon the bed as he accommodated to eating his food with the use of one hand. She wondered briefly if the limb could still be saved, if it could be rehabilitated to function just as any other normal limb could. It was a long shot, seeing as how it appeared to have suffered great lack of use over the years and even when he did have some form of motor skills with it, he had difficulty even with the most simple of tasks, but she was willing to try.

After a few spoonfuls he had finished, seemingly asking for more as Bell collected the dishes and made her way out of the tent. As soon as she had, Alina moved in to take her place, more than curious to see how much feeling he had with his left arm. Discreetly making her way forward to his bedside, she took a seat in the chair Bell had previously been occupying and for a moment just sat there, studying him.

"Stop it." He softly remarked out of the blue, still not looking at her.

The comment left Alina slightly taken aback. "Stop what?" she asked after a quick recovery.

"Stop looking at me like I'm some kind of fucking animal." He supplied, his voice just as soft as it had started out as.

If she wasn't taken aback before, she surely was now.

For a moment she merely gaped, loss for words as she stared at him in blatant amazement. Longer than she would've liked, she floundered for words, unsure how she should respond that. All she could actually muster up was, "E-Excuse me?"

"I think you heard me."

"Are you sure," she questioned, her temper rising over his smartass remarks. "Because what I think I heard was you using the f-word with me!"

"Indeed I did," he spoke with this eerie sort of calm that held not the least bit of anger but, at the same time, held underlying traces of it. "Whoopi do, want me do a jig for you?"

Pushing back to desire to give him a piece of her mind and chopping it up to be that he didn't know what he was saying, she sucked in a deep breath to calmly change the subject. "I was just wondering how much you can feel with your left arm."

He made no attempt to respond, his eyes drifting over to the limp limb for a moment before turning back forward, his face unreadable. Alina sat there quietly before daringly leaning forward to take a hold of his deformed arm. He made no move to stop her, choosing to sit there upon the bed as she brought the limb closer to her view. Delicately she ran her fingers along the rough, scale-like surface, noting how he made no visible reaction when she pressed down upon a tender spot at his wrist.

It wasn't until she moved to touch the gem imbedded in the back of his hand did he make an emotional response.

"Don't!" he shrieked fearfully, his eyes wide and seeing some unforeseeable thing as he yanked his body to the side, pulling his arm away. The limb fell to his lap with a light thud, laying relaxed and unmoving as he sat there, shaking and panting.

Alina's hands fell back to her lap as she regarded him closely. "Did I hurt you?" she asked after allowing the boy to catch his breath.

"Please don't, please don't, please don't, don't, don't, don't…" he repeated breathlessly, his eyes still wide and his body still trembling.

"Don't what?" she questioned, growing alarmed by his sudden change in behavior. "You have to tell me, Allen!"

"Don't make it change!" he supplied, his voice high with fear as he scooted back.

"Make it…change?" Alina repeated to herself, her eyes falling upon the red limb.

She was about to question him about the meaning behind his words when Bell suddenly returned, an exasperated look coming to her face at the sight Allen once more cowering in fear. Setting down the tray, she turned to Alina as she questioned, "What did you do?"

"Me? I didn't do anything!" she protested weakly, rising from the chair to take a few steps back. "I was just examining his arm. When I moved to touched that cross-like emerald embedded in the back of his hand he…he freaked out. He said, 'don't make it change'."

At the last part her voice lowered in wonder, curiosity filling her as she drew deep into thought. But before she even begin pondering the reasoning behind his exclamation, Bell had begun to speak in a not so pleased kind of tone that made the Gypsy suddenly very guilty over her actions, unintentional though they may be. "Remember Alina that the doctor said that things needed to be taken slow, to not push things until he was ready. I know your curious about his arm, we all are. But for now we must be patient and hopefully, in time, we may learn the meaning behind his words."

Alina gave a hesitant nod before stepping away, pausing at the entrance of the tent to observe Bell calmly coax Allen to remain still while she moved the tray of food to his lap, this time delicately feeding him now that his nerves and sense of awareness were all but shaken at this point. The sight only proved to remind her just how really fragile Allen was at the moment, his sense of self very fleeting judging from how he swayed from being calm and infuriated to being frightened and panicky. Such a fact saddened her deeply, but the desire for proper answers was ever growing.

She could only hope that her patience was as good as she claimed it to be.

* * *

The next few days were quiet and steady, nothing spectacular happening that the Gypsy could note was worthwhile. Allen had remained confided to his bed, not speaking much unless spoken to or even leaving bed unless he absolutely had to. If he wasn't prompt to, most were sure he would've soiled his pants by now. He gained few visitors, and those who did come never stayed long. After all, who could when the boy they were talking to hardly uttered a sentence greater than three or four words?

It was truly despairing, but both Alina and Bell refused to give up on the troubled teen, believing in their hearts that eventually this cold shell would crack and his true self would once more emerge. Each day the two would go out of their way to spend some part of the day with him, talking to him as much as they could in hopes that a conversation would be struck amongst their idle banter.

Nothing seemed to work though, at least not in way the Gypsy would've liked. Sure, she appreciated the fact that he was asking for things a little more, even if it was just to get a few trivial things like more blankets or more food. But she was desperate for the old Allen back, for the boy who laughed until he cried, ate like a starved pig, and never seized to make the people around him smile to come back. Where was he in all this? Would he ever return? The possibility seemed bleak, but there was still hope. There would always be hope, even in the direst of circumstances. She had to remember that.

Bringing with her a cup of freshly brewed tea as she made her way back into the tent, Alina was stunned to find Allen not in his bed. Nearly dropping the delicate piece of china, she quickly placed the cup off on the desk before rushing all about the tent, growing frantic by the second as she searched for the missing teen. Calling out his name several times, it thankfully didn't take her long to find him sitting atop of a cargo crate off to the side, just outside of the tent.

His gaze was locked on various performers and civilians that passed. A blanket was draped over his head, hiding his obvious and striking features from view. It took Alina a moment to even realize it was him, his face shrouded in shadow. But she knew it was him, just by the way he sat there, tense and vigilant like a hawk. She was curious as to why that was so.

"What are you doing out here, Allen?" she asked softly, delicately taking a seat beside him.

"I wanted a change of view." He solemnly replied.

The Gypsy couldn't help but smile. It seemed as though he was starting to creep out of his shell, if ever so slowly.

"Well if you had told maybe me or Bell, then maybe we could've helped you sooner."

"I don't need help." He grated in between clenched teeth. His body was tensing even more.

"You're right," she relented begrudgingly. "I'm sorry. It's just that we worry about you. We're still worried about you."

"The concern is very much appreciated…" he dryly muttered, the lack of sincerity evident in his tone. Alina winced at his words. Alright…so he hadn't changed very much. But at least he was replying right away and using more than a handful of words. That had to be something, right?

Sighing, she leaned back on her hands and decided to watch the sea of people, her eyes trailing along all the various faces that passed by. It always intrigued her how there could be so many different types of people that came to their circus, each one with different views, different thoughts, different opinions…the list could go on and on.

The Gypsy watched a pair of children rush by, smiling and waving when they looked her way. Both children—a boy and a girl—smiled and waved in return as they ran pass, eager to be underway to whatever performance they were dying to see. As she watched them disappear into the sea of people, to her surprise she heard Allen make a small noise in the back of his throat. Turning to him, her eyes widened as she watched him meekly wave in the children's wake, a pained expression on his face as he dropped his hand to his lap.

"Where…has the time gone?" he asked, his voice soft and almost fragile. She hadn't seen this side of him, not since he had met her again after about seven years.

"I ask that myself sometimes…" she admitted as she turned back forward.

"My life feels like it's passing me by and I just…can't see it," he whispered despairingly, "No matter what I do, I can't see it change. I can still remember being a child, and it feels as if it was just yesterday that I was here beside you all by the fire as we told stories. But suddenly, from feeling like a kid I come to the moment in right now. As if in the blink of an eye I've become this…this…"

"Don't say it," she warned. "Because you're not."

"Well, you know what I mean," he sighed, "What happened to the moments in between? What happened to the time it took to get from that one point to now? I know it's called growing up, but I don't remember the time in between. And I feel robbed of it because I can't even see it."

"So open your eyes."

He turned to her, flabbergasted. "What?"

"You say you can't see it, you admit that you're growing up, but…you're not grown up yet. You still have time to see the moments that will count, to cherish the time it takes you to become an adult.

"Maybe you couldn't see the time it took because you willingly closed your eyes to it. Maybe it was something you didn't want to see or remember. The scars you bear are reminder enough that what happened to you in the span of seven years was something no one would ever even _want_ to remember. I…I don't want you to remember that time because I know that whatever it was, it wasn't good."

"Alina…"

She stared at her lap for some time until she felt the boy beside her lean closer, his red palm suddenly come into view. For a moment she stared at it, unable to process what she was seeing before her until Allen began speaking, albeit in a meek sort of trembling voice.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting around everyone. It just…it just feels like a dream to me and I don't want to get attach to something like that. I'm scared of this all not being real, because I have a hardest time deciding what's real and what's a dream. But…"

He paused, taking in a deep breath before licking his lips. He was anxious, and extremely nervous. She could tell.

"But I'm going to open my eyes now, I'm going to try to be a better person, just as Mana would've wanted. I can't forget what has happened to me, no matter how much I want to, but I will try as hard as I can to forget the person I've begun. So, if you want, you can look at my arm. Just please, I beg you _please_, do not touch the gem on the back of my hand."

Alina took in his words, thrilled by the fact that this appeared to be one of his better days—one of his greater days in fact since he had arrived. She prayed that this could only mean that things were going to look brighter for them all from here on out.

She took a hold of his hand gently. "I promise you I won't," she swore softly, stroking the rough surface of his discolored skin with her thumb. "But may I ask why?"

He didn't reply, choosing instead to gnaw on his bottom lip anxiously as his eyes stared vigilantly on their joined hands. Shrugging away her unanswered question, the Gypsy gently ran her fingers along the thick skin, occasionally asking a few questions every now and again pertaining to whether he could feel her touch. To her despair, all the answers were the same. He couldn't feel a thing.

Whenever her fingers inched closer to the emerald green stone in the shape of cross that stood, he would stiffen and suck in a deep breath, as if fighting back the urge to shout and cower. She tried her best not to approach the area, but it was difficult and she was having trouble quailing her curiosity. Briefly, while ignoring his noise of warning, she swept a finger across the emerald cross's surface and, for a split second, she saw something. Something that confused her yet awed her at the same time.

She saw him, Allen, standing upon a pile of utter ruin, his body littered with wounds as he kept a large broadsword slung across one shoulder. His gaze was intense and steady as he stared at whatever it was she couldn't see. Something about it though just didn't seem right.

Then, a thought occurred her, one that had been on her mind for seven years, not since she had ultimately confronted Mana about it—at least partially and avertedly.

He was still the hero and the villain. Nothing about that had changed, even after seven years.

The sudden feel of being shoved away snapped her out of her thoughts.

Looking up, Alina wasn't alarmed—though deeply saddened—to find Allen having lost his semblance of self control as he cried out in fear. He immediately scrambled off the crate to land hard on his good foot, supporting all of his weight on that side of his body as he took a few steps back, the blanket still draped over his head. His eyes never left hers as he hoarsely murmured, "You lied to me…"

"Allen, I'm sorry," she apologized, honestly sorry for allowing her curiosity get the best of her. But her words didn't seem good enough for his eyes still held the same traces of fear. "I didn't mean to upset you."

His look of fear instantly melted into a cool mask, his face become blank and unreadable as he coldly stared at her. "Right," he dryly remarked. "No one ever means to upset me, but they do anyways. I wonder why."

Before she could muster up a reply, Allen was gone, having limped away into the crowd of people. She racked her eyes all about the moving flux of people as she got off the crate, struggling vainly to find Allen. But to her misfortune she could not, the boy having so keenly slipped away into the rush of people so quickly and so subtlety that he seemingly faded away into nothingness, if one didn't know any better.

Cursing under her breath, the Gypsy made her way back to his tent in an attempt to bring forth a much better apology, thinking that that was where he would be now that she had unintentional scared him away.

He was not.

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry for the shorter chapter and for the fact that it's kinda fillerish. It's just necessary in order to set the stage for the next couple chapters where everything takes another turn. Whether it's a good or bad turn, I'll leave it up to you all to wonder and for the characters to decide. _

_Last thing before I go. Any Harry Potter fans out there? If you are, I saw the final movie and it was amazing! Simple as that._


	21. To Honour Thy Father

Ch. 20

'_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_

_But though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along'_

_-Evanescence: My Immortal_

"Is this…the right place?" one of the males asked as they stepped out of the carriage they had arrived in, his one-eyed gaze flickering to his two companions as they moved to stand beside him.

The lone female made to check the mission file that they had been given, scanning the contents quickly before turning back to her two comrades. "I think so," she replied uncertainly as she handed the folder back to the accompanying Finder. "Komui wasn't given very clear instructions from General Cross but this appears to be the place."

The third and tallest made a click with his tongue as he moseyed on forward, leaving the other two to watch him go with uncertainty.

"I uh," the girl began apprehensively. "I don't want to go in there…"

"Ah come on, Lenalee! You're an Exorcist who's fought loads of akuma before, creatures that are far scarier than whatever twisted beings reside in this place. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, it looks like they're in cages."

Lenalee made a face but otherwise made no complaint as she followed closely behind her friend as they entered the sideshow's camp.

The female Exorcist stuck close to her friend as they made their way forward, her eyes franticly skirting around the entire scope of the camp. Leering gazes from the beings held captive in their cages followed them as they went, the shadows casted down from the surrounding trees preventing Lenalee from seeing whatever unfortunate feature they had that made them stand out in society. Some howled, some tried reaching out to her in either a pleading or ravenous manner, and some simply just watched. All in all, Lenalee felt utterly uncomfortable, to say the least.

"I don't like the looks of this place, Lavi…" she commented as she stared at a large pile of feathers featured before one of the cages. She could only gawk at the thought of what may have happened to the actual bird.

"Neither do I," Lavi concurred, stepping over pile of filth as he surveyed a cluster of tents pitched a safe distance from where the cluster of cages were situated. "Come on, let's go see if we can't find someone who can give us some answers about this apostle we've been sent to find."

"God…I hope he or she isn't trapped in one of those cages."

The two veered over to the line of tents, quickly spotting their comrade leaning contemptuously against a tree as he spoke to a man with a nasty sneer on his face. Lenalee could only catch tidbits of their discussion until they made it to the pair, at which point she discovered that the pair were arguing about the fact that civilians weren't suppose to be on site when there weren't any shows scheduled. Though the other male was doing much of the talking, seeing as how their fellow companion didn't seem to care one bit.

"I demand that you leave my campsite at once!" The man screeched, growing ever annoyed that he wasn't getting any reaction from the younger male.

Frustrated that he wasn't being taken seriously, the man pulled out a handgun he had hidden within the inner pocket of his blazer and fired it up into the air as a warning shot. This not only got Lavi's and Lenalee's attention, but their comrade's as well, all three stiffening at the sound of the gun being fired. Both males, out of compulsive instinct, gripped their respected weapons, their eyes steeling over with a look that only experienced soldiers could bear.

Lenalee herself could feel the buzz of her innocence within the forefronts of her conscious; a simple thought was all that was needed to send her shooting up into the heavens with the swiftness of a hawk and gracefulness of a dove. But she pushed the feeling aside and reminded herself that what they were dealing with wasn't an akuma but an ordinary man. And discretion had to be taken.

"Kanda, Lavi," Lenalee warned, her stern tone causing them to relax, if only slightly. Turning to the man with the firearm, she tried to muster up a smile as she began, "I'm sorry, but we're a part of an organization known as the Black Order and we've been sent here to locate someone who may be…different."

"I'm sorry to tell you, love, but you're a place of freaks," the man sneered with sarcasm ringing in his voice, "You're going to have to be more specific than that."

Ignoring the savage look he was giving her as he ran his eyes up and down her body, Lenalee kept her chin up as she evenly replied, "How about anyone who can, perhaps, do things with objects that give them enhanced speed, maybe strength…anything that just doesn't appear normally, even for people that are a part of your show."

"Nope, afraid not."

"How about limbs that are severely deformed, or discolored, or can change?"

Something flashed in the man's dark eyes, this fact not going unnoticed by any of the three. The man gave a smug grin as he coolly replied, "Nope, never seen any of that."

Lenalee tried her best not to scowl at the obvious fact that he was lying. And the fact that she could catch his ravenous stares he subtly sent her way as they stood there did not help. Pushing back her own discomfort, the young Exorcist made an attempt to get him talking. Her plan was that she was going to try to sweet-talk the answer from him. She didn't like it, and it might not work, but it could be the only way.

"Are you sure? We were told that someone of that nature would be at a place like this, and, you and I both know that there aren't that many places like this," she said sweetly as she batted a few lashes for effect, praying he'd take the bait.

To her horror he merely gave her a devilish look that clearly showed that he knew what she was doing. "Nice try, love, but you're going to have to try a lot harder than that."

Lips pursing as she bit back a tart response, her stance stiffened considerably as she returned to a much more serious air of composure. "Fine, I guess there's nothing more for us here," she stated before addressing her two friends. "Come on, guys. Maybe this really is the wrong place. Sorry to have troubled you, Mr. …"

"McQueen," he supplied as he took hold of her hand and planted a sloppy kiss to her knuckles, the act that should've been polite and eloquent causing her stomach to churn unpleasantly.

Pulling her hand away, she gave a strained smile to McQueen before turning around to make her way back out, acutely aware of him staring at her back. Kanda and Lavi reluctantly followed, sending inquiring glances her way. Lavi made to keep up with her as he softly hissed, "We're not really leaving, are we?"

"Do you really think I'd have us leave when it's quite obvious he's hiding someone?"

Lavi gave a crooked smile. "Glad it wasn't just me who noticed…"

"We all noticed," Kanda commented irately as he swept passed the two, wordlessly returning to the carriage. Lenalee and Lavi watched him go with slightly amazed but not at all surprised expressions. It had been obvious the moment they had found him with McQueen that he hadn't wanted to be here to begin with.

Shaking his head in playful dismay, Lavi made to throw out a sly remark when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Knitting his brow, he tilted his head off to the side, his only good eye falling upon the form of a dwarf sized woman hiding within the shadows of a nearby tent. Her eyes immediately lowered when he looked to her, her stance tense and nervous as she sent a few uneasy glances up whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

He sent her a soft smile. She sent him a fleeting one before looking away in something he had trouble discerning. It was either embarrassment or shame.

"Come on," he absently mumbled as he began making his way towards the short woman, Lenalee at his heels.

"Hey!" he called cheerfully, suddenly growing alarmed when the woman made to dart away. "No, wait! We just want to talk to you!"

His words seemed to have worked for she came to a reluctant stop. She turned to them with a look of fearful curiosity in her round eyes, her hands worriedly kneading the end of her bodice. As they came up to her she asked in a timid voice, "Y-Yes?"

"Hello there!" Lavi began with a friendly ring in his voice, a broad and honest smile quirking his lips. "I noticed you were watching us a moment ago and I couldn't help wondering if maybe you know something about who we're looking for."

The woman looked indecisive, her mouth floundering open and closed for several seconds until McQueen's voice cut through the air.

"Molly! Let those children be underway and come help me!"

Molly flinched violently over his words, shuddering slightly as she glanced at him briefly. When her gaze returned to the pair, a startling resolve hardened in her soft, doe brown eyes. Hastily she murmured, "If you want to know about the person you're looking for, you have to promise me that you will not push him do anything he doesn't want to because he has suffered enough."

"We can assure you that we will not harm him in any way," Lenalee promised, her face becoming somber as she added, "But we can't promise he'll be completely out of harm's way."

Molly assessed her words thoughtfully, contemplating them for a brief moment until it was clear that her words were clearly truthful and honest, not at all sparing. There was no way one could save another from the cruelty of the world, she reluctantly accepted that. But these people looked to mean that they would do everything in their given power to make sure he was alright—just as she had. She could only hope that, in the long run, it would work out.

"Alright…there's a clearing about five miles south of here—"

"Molly!"

"Meet me there tonight at midnight. I'll tell you everything you need to know."

Before either had a say in the matter, she was gone, rushing off as fast as she could to McQueen's side to do whatever it was that he needed help with. Lavi and Lenalee exchanged looks with another. "Well…" Lavi began as he sighed, a resigned expression melding onto his face.

"I," Lenalee continued with an exasperated smile, "I guess we don't have much of a choice if we want to find the accommodator that Cross mentioned to brother."

"Guess not!"

* * *

Allen did not return to the camp for two days.

His rather unexpected disappearance had sent a wave of alarm through those who had been relieved by his miraculous return. Most were frantic, and Alina herself couldn't hide the panic she felt by his disappearance. It was her fault after all and she couldn't have felt more shame because of it. After the first day she admitted her guilt to Bell and the silent disappointment that exuded from her as she shook her head slowly in dismay did not help.

Feeling as if nothing could get any better after such a thing happened, it came as a pleasant surprise when he returned on the third day. It was night by the time they found him limping back to the entrance of their camps, covered from head to toe in dirt, his face set in exhaustion. If his bloodshot eyes were anything to go on, it appeared he hadn't slept in all the time he had been gone. His shirt was ripped and frayed in several places, making the injury at his abdomen visible.

It was obvious from the flared scar that he had ripped the stitches out, but strangely, it was healed. His splint was also gone, but his limp wasn't as heavy as it had once been before, indicating that his ankle was more or less healed. But no one took much notice to these two facts as they greeted him warmly, conveying their joy at his return.

He merely stood there, weary eyes sifting around his surroundings before he did something he hadn't done in quite some time: he gave a smile. It was albeit a timid and hesitant one, but for the moment it was enough. The act lasted for only a few seconds before his face returned to the somber expression that had been there the moment he had woken up. Wordlessly he began making his way back to his tent, passing several people on his way.

No one moved to stop him, merely throwing a few comments his way before going back to what they had been doing before he had returned. Alina tailed him anxiously though, desperate know where he had been all this time. She, nor anyone else, had been able to search much outside of the camp due to performances and shows that had to be kept on schedule but she had a strong inkling as to where he might've wandered off to for two, almost three, days.

"Allen!" she called as she weaved her way amongst her colleagues and friends, scuttling around the line of pitched up tents that were situated discreetly off to the side of the actual site. For a moment she lost sight of him and as she was about to go around a cluster of tents when she ran into Bell, who held a stern look to her face.

"Oh, Bell, there you are," she absently remarked as she peered over her shoulders in search of Allen.

"Alina…" sighed the Cook as she avoided looking at her directly in the eye.

"Yes?"

"Leave him alone."

The Gypsy was honestly perplexed by her words and she wasn't quite getting it. Apparently it was obvious for her older friend continued.

"I…I don't want you to drive him away again, possibly for good. I think it would be better if you just leave him alone for now and give him some space. If he wants to see you then far be it from me to stop him, but just, for now, let him relax and maybe get back in the swing of things."

Alina opened her mouth to snap back a retort when a sudden commotion caught both women's attentions.

Curious, both women took a few steps forward and turned a corner to find a ring of people shouting anxiously at whatever they were surrounding. Pushing through the crowd, it didn't take them long to find Allen squirming desperately under the larger weight of Cosimo, their Circus's head clown. Both grew wide-eyed at this, each in turn gasping as they watch him send a rather strong punch to the teen's jaw.

"What the hell are you doing back here you little bastard?" he questioned heatedly as he sent another punch, this one directed at his stomach.

Allen gave no response as he rolled to his right, using the momentum to swing his left arm at Cosimo. The arm struck him across the cheek hard, causing his hold on the boy to waver enough for Allen to wiggle free. And once he had, it seemed as if a storm of raw fury had been unleashed. With a strange ease he sent the man falling to his back, gripping his neck with hands that shook with anger.

Cosimo struggled for only a brief moment before tugging ruthlessly on the boy's unkempt long white hair, quickly changing their roles as Allen let a strangled cry. Pushing the smaller male away, the Clown got a top of him rather clumsily, sending the pair rolling off to the side. The ring of people gave out a range of cries as they made an opening for the pair, watching with barely suppressed interest as the duo rolled and eventually tumbled down the grassy hill the tents had been pitched on.

Both Alina and Bell followed them with their eyes as they continued down, each letting out another gasp as the two fell into the stream that ran parallel to the forest that sat several dozen feet away. Only few rushed forward—Alina and Bell included—most choosing to do nothing but stand there as curious witnesses in order to watch this strange scene unfold.

As they neared, they could see through the darkness that both were splashing rather violently, struggling to send the other below the surface. Both were sending rather nasty retorts back at one another, words that only fuelled their overwhelming hatred for one another.

"Everything was fine until you showed up! Now we have to cart you around and treat you like your some kind of celebrity when you're really nothing more than a nasty freak that should've died with his annoying father!" Cosimo growled as he thrust Allen's head into the water, holding him there for a few seconds before pulling it back up, only to do it again and again.

Sputtering as his head was pulled back to the surface, it took Allen a moment to gather his bearings before he sent a punch to the man's nose. Pushing the broader man away when he wavered in surprise, Allen didn't hesitate to send more punches at Cosimo, face shrouded in anger as he snapped, "You can insult me all you like, but don't you _dare_ speak of Mana that way!"

He didn't give Cosimo room to respond before he wrapped his hands back around his thick throat and began slamming his head repeatedly against the water's surface. "No matter how much you wish it," he snarled darkly, "You'll. Never. Be. Like. MANA!" For a moment he removed his good hand and sent another jarring punch to Cosimo's nose as he pulled his head up, the blow causing his nose to break, eliciting the flow of blood and a stream of stricken howls.

He was about to drive the man's head back under when he suddenly heard his name called, followed by someone tackling him away from Cosimo, sending them both crashing further into the water. Allen twisted and squirmed as he felt a pair of arms wrap around his thin frame, making sure he wouldn't go after the Clown again. "Let me go!" he cried as he attempted to lunge at Cosimo as the man got to his feet, thigh deep in water.

Delicately wiping some of the blood that poured out of his nose, Cosimo glared at the enraged teen as he growled. "Look what you did you freaking bastard!" He moved to approach him until Matthew held him back, preventing him from getting to Allen

"That's enough!" Matthew warned, causing the Clown to pull away in disgust.

Ragged breathing filled the quiet air as silence descended, everyone's attention on those around them. Allen breathed thickly through his nose, somewhat calmed down as his adrenaline and anger began to dissipate. Only when his struggles had stilled and his capturer was positive that he wouldn't lash out was he finally freed, falling helplessly onto his knees as he stared at Cosimo with what seemed to be regret in his eyes.

Now chest deep in water, Allen sat there on his knees until he felt a hand tug at his elbow, grabbing his attention. Looking up, his eyes met those of Royal, a man he had only seen once since his initial return. And it was then that he realized that the animal trainer had been the one to hold him back. His mouth fell upon to give an apology but no words came, to his grievance. Luckily, the man understood his intentions and gave a crooked smile.

"It's good to see you again, kiddo…" he murmured as he hauled him to his feet, giving a moment to steady him before drawing his hand away.

Now with everything calmed, it was time to get some answers.

"What…happened?" Alina exasperatedly questioned as she stepped forward, ignoring the fact that her skirt was steadily becoming soaked as she stepped out into the stream. Bell was not that far behind her, and she immediately rushed over to Allen's side, dismay in her features as she looked him over.

Cosimo shifted anxiously before spitting out a clot of blood off to the side and running a hand through his disheveled and thinning brown hair. It was clear he was not going to be the first to answer. So everyone's attentions turned to Allen, who abashedly looked down and began fiddling with his now very limp left hand.

"I-I got angry…" he meekly replied, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"Was that before or after Cosimo attacked you?"

"Both…?" he flinched at the silence that greeted his word, feeling very much like a child caught doing something wrong.

Alina hummed a response before turning to Cosimo, her expression severe. "And why is it that you attacked Allen, Cosimo?"

"Well look at him!" he cried exasperatedly, groaning at the pain that fester at his broken nose. "He's even more of a freak now than he ever was seven years ago!"

"That still doesn't give you the right to just attack him though!" Bell admonished, her eyes holding such a scalding look that made even someone like Cosimo flinch, if only slightly.

"Am I the only who finds his return to be a bad sign?"

"Cosimo!"

The Clown reluctantly fell silent, clearly disgruntled as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "To hell with you all then…" he lowly mumbled as he began wading his way back to shore, completely disheveled and completely soaked. Eyes wearily followed him until turning back to Allen, finding the boy shivering slightly from both the chill and the aftershock of the situation. He looked hurt and lost after have digested the man's words, his eyes staring solemnly at the rippling water up at his waist.

"I'm sorry…" he softly mumbled as he began wading out of the water, passing his caretakers as he made it to the shore. All watched in hushed silence, not even daring to breathe as he swiftly disappeared into the darkness of the night while on his way to his tent.

And all of them there couldn't help feeling that they had, somehow in some way, failed.

Failed both themselves and Allen.

* * *

Once he had made back to his tent, Allen made quick work of disposing his wet clothes and changing into something a little dryer. Granted it was only a pair of pants and a simple vest, but it would have to do. Besides, he didn't care one way or another. At least it was something and on that aspect he was grateful.

Sitting upon the cot he had become so familiar with for over a week, he stared off into space as he began absently rubbing his swollen cheek and busted lip. He thought about the time he had been away, away from the thought of having to do something he hadn't been ready for. A part of him knew that Alina's intentions had been pure and that she had not at all thought of bringing forth the very thing that he was afraid of. But that still didn't keep him from feeling a tad bit hurt and betrayed.

After having left the camp's grounds, he had wandered off with no particular place in mind. And inexplicably, he had found his feet taking him to Mana's grave. It was there that he had found safety and comfort. Oddly enough, he had found solace in the lone and out of place grave, confiding it his fears and doubts of ever fulfilling his destiny in the shape he was in at the moment. He was a complete wreck after all! How was he supposed to do what he was suppose to if he was in such a terrible shape?

He didn't know, and for the moment, the thought fleeted away when his stomach gave a rather ferocious growl. It was then that he remembered that he hadn't eaten in nearly three days and it was now that he was feeling the effects of being terribly famished. Clutching his stomach as his stomach gave another demanding roar, Allen decided to go see if he could go find some scraps to eat. Or, if he ran into Bell, ask her if she could make him something. That is…if he could even ask her something like that.

He was still very much weary of the people who he had at one time wholeheartedly considered his family. Sometimes they appeared as mere strangers to him, in his still jumbled up and periodically confused mind. In the long run he hated how rude or cold he acted to people sometimes, but he couldn't help it. All he really cared about was protecting himself, though it wasn't like he wanted to hurt those he cared about.

If only he could find a balance, a way to create some kind of boundary that both separated yet connected the two…

Sighing softly, he wearily got to his feet and began making his way towards the area within the camp he was sure to find food. On his way he suddenly heard low voices coming from one of the tents and otherwise he wouldn't have thought much of it had he not heard his own name mentioned in the conversation. Growing ever curious, he maneuvered over to the tent, crouching in the shadows as he peeked inside the thin opening.

In the dimly lit tent he saw Matthew, Royal, Alina, and Bell, the four adults apparently having a discussion about him from what he could gather. Matthew paced back and forth in front of the cot that the two women sat upon, the other male choosing to remain standing with his arms folded across his chest.

"Maybe Cosimo was right…"

"How can you say that Matthew?" Bell cried out, clearly upset that her friend would even consider such a thing. "Cosimo was the one who started the fight after all, not Allen!"

"Yeah, well, Allen is just as guilty for acting out the way he did when he was provoked," Matthew sighed, feeling and looking resigned. "Maybe…maybe it would be better if we sent Allen to the town's orphanage…"

"Matthew, you can't be serious," Royal questioned evenly. "This is Allen we're talking about, not some stranger who just happens to have a few screws loose."

"But that's just it! He isn't Allen, not the boy we knew and loved. That boy is long gone, and now we're stuck with a boy we can't even say we know anymore. How hard is it for you all to see that?"

Silence fell at the question. No one dared to speak, and because of that, Allen felt extremely hurt. And it was then that he realized that he had heard enough.

Forgetting all about the fact that he was starving, he stomped back to his tent, trembling ever so slightly. He thought about their words, growing ever more annoyed at the fact that maybe, just maybe, they were right. And what if they were? It wasn't like he knew how to be himself anymore, which was sad, even to him. How was he supposed to return to his old self if he didn't know how? Would they really send him to an orphanage if he didn't change? What if they sent him away first thing in the morning?

All these questions only fueled his overwhelming fear, and the only way he knew how to deal with his fear was by being angry.

As soon as he made it back to his tent, he only hesitated for a moment before he displaced his mingled fear and anger upon the nearest furniture. There wasn't much besides a few cargo crates, a foldable desk, chair, and cot, but each served its purpose of relieving some of his anger induced stress. Eventually the tent was in mild disarray, and once there was nothing more Allen could subject his fearful fury to, he stood there with his harsh breathing filling the air.

He surveyed the mess until something out the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was the spilt contents of one of the crates, and the longer he stared the more disbelief began to set in. Mouth gaped slightly, he took hesitant steps towards the crate, lowering himself onto his knees before the familiar pile of old, worn out items that hadn't appeared to be used in years. Seven, to be exact.

With a careful, albeit trembling, hand he began sifting through the assortment of juggling items, eventually unearthing Mana's rather bulky clown suit along with one of Tramp's spare costumes. The sight of both as he clutched the faded and moth-bitten fabric brought unshed tears to his eyes, a low cry of sorrow managing to fall past his parted lips.

In the week he had been here, there had been no lingering sign of his father ever having been here, and that simple fact depressed him greatly. It was as if they had forgotten all about the deceased clown. But they couldn't have forgotten, not really, if they still held onto his things. The thought eased some of his earlier doubts, but he still couldn't help feeling that maybe they were only holding onto it for the sake of having it. As if the saying 'gone but not forgotten' went 'forgotten but not gone' applied to the situation.

As he pushed away some of the gags that had long since been used by the Clown, he came across a cracked picture frame. Curious partly because of its sudden discovery, he took a hold of it, leveling it up to his eyes so he could get a better look past the glare that had set upon the glass from the light of the gas lamp. What he saw made his heart both skip a beat and leap into his throat.

It was picture of Mana, looking slightly younger and more energetic, a tender and loving smile on his face as he looked to the camera, jostling around a one-year-old infant that was eagerly trying to reach for the camera in his arms.

The sight of the photograph was enough to free his long unshed tears.

Falling forward, he heavily wept upon the ground, his tears falling continuously upon the cracked glass of the picture frame. He cried for himself, he cried for what he had become, and most of all, he cried for Mana. It seemed as if he was the only thing he could honestly recall completely from his childhood. He could still remember his gentle smile whenever he was happy, the anxious tone in his voice whenever he was worried, and the hopeful, almost wishful glint in his eyes whenever he was in deep thought.

He could remember clearly those little things that everyone else seemed to have forgotten. And if they hadn't, it would only be a matter of time. Such a thought bothered him greatly and the longer he thought about it, the greater the idea that had suddenly crawled into his head seemed to be. If he couldn't remember how _he_ himself acted, then why not act like Mana instead? He knew the man better than he knew himself currently, and what better way to really preserve his dead father's memory than to do such a thing? And not only would he be doing that but he would also be acting normal, to extent.

He'd be able to protect himself too. To create a mask that effectively shielded what he was really feeling inside, the unpleasant bouts of sorrow and despair that most would find pitiful while still reaching out to them like a normal human would.

He did not want to appear pitiful anymore. In fact, he was tired of it. He was done being the person who garnered all the looks of sympathy and disappointment. He wanted to be a person who made people smile. And maybe…just maybe, someday he'd be able to rediscover the person he had been before he had stupidly ran away and got himself trapped within McQueen's wicked sideshow.

He could only hope that such a thing would happen in the long run but for now he would don a mask, one that would get him closer to those he cared about as well as protect him.

And, for the time being, it would be enough.

* * *

_Author's Note: I don't like this chapter, especially how it ended. I look much more forward to the next chapter in all honesty._


	22. Snapped to Attention

Ch. 21

'_It was the wicked and wild wind_

_Blew down the doors and let me in_

_Shattered windows and the sound of drums_

_People couldn't believe what I'd become'_

_-Coldplay: Viva la Vida_

The dawn of a new day brought with it the dawn of a new change. Alina awoke with a sour feeling resting within the pit of her stomach, her eyes holding a look that could only come with lack of sleep. She had been restless all night after the conversation she, Matthew, Alina, and Royal had had about Allen. They had all agreed that if Allen started or was involved in a fight, he would be left to the disposal of the town's orphanage. About three-fourths of the group had resented this proposal, but they all understood that what the boy needed most was help…and it was possible he wouldn't find it here.

It was difficult to understand…but she had to accept the possibility of it happening.

With steps that held an echoing hesitance she made her way to Allen's tent, expecting to find him sitting sulkily on his bed as he proceeded to brood about whatever happened to be on his mind. Instead she found him surprisingly up and about, appearing to be tidying up his tent after a night of unknowingly trashing it on his own whim.

At first he didn't take notice of her gaping form, but as he turned he froze, eyes growing wide with astonishment and surprise for a fleeting second before a blinding, perfect smile grew on his face. He took only a moment to direct it towards her before he continued his actions of cleaning up his sleeping area. "Ah, uh, good morning," he remarked as he passed her, pointlessly readjusting something that didn't need to be fixed.

Alina watched him like he was some kind strange, foreign creature she had never seen before. "W-What are you doing?" she asked, as if his actions weren't obvious enough.

"Cleaning the mess I made last night. It's taken me some time but I think I'm done." He replied smoothly, pivoting on one heel to turn and look at her. A flustered look erupted across his features. "I haven't eaten in what feels like ages and I'm kind of hungry and, um…well what I mean is…could you maybe show me where I could get something to eat?"

The Gypsy blinked rapidly in an attempt to better comprehend his words before she managed to sputter out, "Uh…yeah, um, just follow me."

A relieved smile broke across his lips. "Thank you," he breathed as he followed, walking along beside her with an awkward barrier strung up between them.

Neither seemed to know what to say, Alina still struck by his sudden change to such an outgoing and grateful behavior while Allen pondered the possibility that maybe he wasn't acting like Mana would've. Regardless though, for his own selfish sake, he wasn't about to give up. "I want to say I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, Alina. I never meant to hurt you if I did." He began meekly, the words tumbling off his tongue before he could register what he was saying.

"You don't have to apologize," Alina assured cautiously. "What happened is in the past and today is the dawn of a new day."

Allen nodded appreciatively, turning his head back forward to gaze at all the various sized tents and caravans that they passed. Seconds passed by without another word said, the two finding it rather difficult to punctuated the silence with talk that would only last for a short amount of time. Neither knew how to tackle it head on or what to say in order to stop it, but, Alina thought the best course of action was to, in fact, start the dreaded small talk in hopes it would get a conversation rolling.

"So…what did you do while you were gone?" she asked, hoping such a question wouldn't drive away whatever it was that made him a little more cheerful, a little brighter than before.

"Oh, I went to visit Mana's grave," he quickly supplied, an anxious note in his voice. "I thought it would help me figure some things out, and it did, a little…"

"A little…?" she pressed.

"Yes," a delicate smile formed on his lips. "Being close to him made me see that I couldn't continue living the way I was." It was a white lie, of course. He hadn't changed only because of that but then Alina didn't have to know that, did she?

A smile of her own came to the Gypsy's face. "That's good," she assured. "I'm glad seeing him helped."

Allen gave a nod, their conversation pausing as they made it to the expansive gathering where food was prepared and given out. Not many were there at such an early hour, but the fact that there happened to be food seemed to be all the white-haired boy cared about. Eagerly he rushed over to where Bell sat situated by a fire, collectively cooking breakfast.

Trying hard not to salivate at the wonderful aromas that sailed across his nose, he sidled up beside the Cook and patiently waited as she made eggs and bacon on a skillet. She didn't seem to realize who it was exactly beside her for when she turned to hand him the plate, she nearly dropped her spatula, eyes growing wide with surprise.

"Good morning," Allen greeted as he gave a polite dip of his head.

"G-Good morning, Allen," she stuttered, watching as he took the plate and wolfed down the contents in a mere second. He didn't even use a fork!

Wiping his chin free of some the grease, he returned the plate to her. "Could you perhaps give me seconds, thirds, fourths, and fifths on this plate?" He politely requested before an unsettled, desperately anxious look took over his countenance as he hastily added, "Of course, when you have the time!"

Bell look astounded for a fraction of a moment before a tender, appreciative smile swathed her features in joy and relief. "If it's for you, Allen, then I have all the time in the world." She remarked as she began to prepare his rather monstrous order while still making room to help feed everyone else.

The teen stepped away as she cooked, eyes searching slightly before they fell to Alina, at which point he moved over to where she sat. She tried not to feel unsettled at the sight of his smile, as warm as it may appear to be outwardly.

"Can you hold your hand out for me?" he asked as he sat down beside, the question subjectively random in her opinion.

"Sure," she slowly oblige, offering him her right.

She watched curiously as his expression took on one of concentration, his brow knitting softly as he stared at her hand. Seconds past with nothing happening and Alina soon began to wonder just what he had in mind.

"Allen, what are you—"

"_Shush_! Just watch."

Reluctantly she did and moments later she watched his left hand shakily reach up for her right, the simple act taking all the effort and willpower in the world to do. Sluggishly it moved up and forward, tremors running all along the limb as he slowly brought it to her hand. Once there, she noticed him slightly stick his tongue out of the corner of his mouth before his fingers creakingly wrapped around her hand.

Alina gazed down at their joined hands with amazement and disbelief.

"But I thought…" she murmured thoughtlessly, staring at his red hand as it slackened in her hold, the entire limb going limp once more.

"If I concentrate hard enough, I can get it to move. I still can't feel anything, but, if I practice, maybe I'll be able to get to work just like it did before," Allen explained, eyes trailing up to her own. "Or maybe I can get it to work like my normal one."

"Allen…" Alina uttered with laughter ringing in her voice. "This is…this is amazing!"

Allen smiled softly. "I knew you'd like it."

While he waited for his food, Allen went on about how he discovered this fact while he had been cleaning, and that his goal was to be able to have it function like his right so that he could do what he had wanted to do since he was five years old: become a clown so that he could make people smile. When Alina tried to tell that such a thing may not happen he showed great acceptance of such a possibility and understood that it'd take a lot of hard work and dedication in order for it to work. He assured her that if it didn't work out, then he could always pull his weight around the circus as serving as a promoter of sorts. After all, if he were just to walk around as he were now in some city or town, he was sure to draw ample amount of attention.

This fact amazed Alina, because not a week ago the teen had been pretty adamant of not letting anyone see his eye-catching features, resorting to using a sheet to hide himself when he actually did go out of his tent that one time. Something about him just didn't seem…right, like something was off about this transformation. But for his sake, as well as everyone else's, she didn't question it.

This Allen was a whole lot better than the broken one who had wandered his way back into their lives.

After he had devoured his large portion of breakfast, he bid farewell to Alina and proceeded to venture around the grounds despite the fact that he was still ravenously hungry. He knew he'd most likely eat them clean out of all of their stock before he was actually full so he resided with this gnawing emptiness that wasn't as unbearable as it had been earlier this morning. At least he had finally gotten something to eat, and that was what really mattered.

Turning a corner, he instantly froze as he came face to face with Cosimo, who had a thick bandage plastered on his nose, one of his eyes holding a purple bruise. He sent a contemptuous sneer at the smaller, thinner male. "What the hell are you looking at you little git?"

Allen swallowed thickly. "I'm sorry for attacking you last night. At first it was just in defense, but then it became something more and for that, I'm sorry."

Cosimo gave a scowl of distain. "I don't need you kissing my ass. I still don't like you and I could care less if you like me. Apologies won't change a thing."

"I'm just trying to be the better man…" Allen trailed off, trying to remain calm.

"Ha! You're still just a child in my eyes, boy!" he scoffed gruffly. "Now get, before the likes of you boils my temper."

Allen gave a grimace as he stepped around the heavyset man, fighting against the urge to charge back at him and show him just how much of man he was by giving him another black eye. Punches aside, he continued on with no particular destination in mind, just thoughtlessly wandering around the growing activity of the camp as it came alive.

Eventually he ran into Royal, who was talking to a beagle that was mischievously nipping at his pant leg boldly before darting away whenever the man made to grab it. Unable to keep himself from grinning at the antics, Allen quickly diverted towards the pair, coming to an untimely stop when he felt a pair of eyes gazing at him. Knitting his brow slightly, he turned his gaze over to where he felt the presence, his eyes falling upon the form of a girl his own age, hidden in the shadows of a tent. Instantly their eyes met, and quickly the girl darted away, her cheeks scarlet with embarrassment from being caught staring.

"Didn't fancy seeing you up and about so early, eh Allen?" Royal remarked, grabbing the boy's attention.

Allen gave an indifferent shrug. "I needed some fresh air, a change of scenery, you know, stuff like that."

"Well it's good to see you're better. You looked mighty awful last night, kiddo." A guilty look glinted in his pale eyes and his rugged smirk quirked into a frown. "I'm sorry for not seeing you as often as I should've. I've been busy trying to train not only the animals but my assistant."

"Don't apologize; I'm kinda glad you didn't see how much of a total brat I had become."

"Those scars you bear give you every right, kiddo. I don't know what happened to you all those years but you don't have to justify yourself because I understand."

He could see that the direction their conversation was going was making the boy extremely uncomfortable, to the point where he visibly fidgeted. Hastily the teen took the reins of the conversation and decided to change the subject.

"Is that who that girl was?" Allen questioned as he crouched down, stroking the young dog amiably.

"If you're referring to a skimpy, little brunette who does nothing but cause trouble, then yes, that would be her. Her name is Anya and she's been with us for close to two years." Royal explained. "She's no Klaud, that's for sure, but she's just as much of a spitfire as she had been and that makes it a little more bearable."

Talk of Klaud made both males somber, so the conversation once again drifted to another topic. "So…" trailed Allen, "Who's this little guy?"

"Oh, him?" Royal gave a slight grimace as he lowered his gave at the rambunctious pup. "We found him not a day before you showed up. I thought he might be of some use to maybe the clown acts but I can't get that troublesome pup to listen to me."

Allen gave a frown as he rose to his feet. "Well I think you should start off by giving him a name. It's no wonder he won't listen when he doesn't have one."

"Don't you think I've tried? Every name I throw at him doesn't seem to work." He called as he watched Allen begin to walk away, the boy turning around briefly to add, "Then I guess you just haven't found the right one yet."

Allen didn't catch his reply if there was one, walking away before the man had the chance to. From there he continued on, sweeping his captivated gaze back and forth between all the alluring people that he passed, amazed in wonderment at how much had changed. There was certainly far more people than he remembered, meaning much bigger and more elaborate acts. And much more attendees.

If he wanted to get a piece of the action, then he was going to have to work for it, both physically and mentally. His deformity still made him a bit uncomfortable, but it wasn't difficult to bury such an insecurity, reminding himself that such a thing could actually work in his favor. In most cases he was sure that people would gawk or scream at the sight of his general appearance, but people here didn't seem to mind, and if he played his cards right, neither would the general public. At least that's what he hoped.

Finding a quiet spot in the shade, Allen's brow knitted deeply as he laid out on his stomach, keeping his knees locked and his legs rigid. Sucking in a deep breath he pushed himself up, sinking to his left side almost instantly after executing the action. Frowning at his failed attempt, he tried again, only to gain the same result. He continuously tried until he was too tired to keep it up, his strength giving out far too quickly for his pleasure.

Residing with defeat, he flopped down on his stomach, blowing out a puff of air as his bangs draped like a curtain over his eyes. It was then that he noted that his hair was exceedingly long, to the point where it looked garishly feminine. It was nearly to his elbows for crying out loud! Why he hadn't gotten himself to care sooner escaped him but now that he noticed it, the thought of getting his hair cut outweighed that of getting into proper shape.

"Vhat are you?"

The question posed to him caught the white-haired boy by surprise, confusion registering on his face as he rolled onto his back and stared up at the girl that sat perched on a rather high tree branch. "Excuse me?" he questioned, wondering if he had heard her right.

"Vhat are you?" the girl asked louder, making her Russian accent that the more clearer.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," replied Allen truthfully.

The girl—whom he realized was Royal's assistant, Anya—shimmied down cautiously to a lower branch, not daring to set foot on the ground in which Allen laid on. Her gaze was curious, but there was also a hint of fear in her hazel eyes.

"Are you zome kind of demon or are you a vengeful zpirit?"

"Do I look like a demon or a spirit?" he snapped, a bit more venom in his words than he would've liked now that he was trying to reform his ways.

Anya flinched at the harshness of his words, scooting away until her back was pressed to the trunk of the tree. Her eyes were wide and her face had paled somewhat.

Allen gave a careful sigh that calmed his riled nerves.

"I'm sorry," he apologized as he brought a smile to his lips. "I did not mean to frighten you, it's just…I don't enjoy being called a demon all that much. I know I may look strange, but I'm human, same as you. My name is Allen Walker."

A look of wary hesitance shadowed the young teenager's face as she mulled over his words, allowing them to sink in before she replied, "My name is Anya Volkov, and I am zorry if I offended you."

"It's okay. I am a sight to see after all."

"Ztill, it had been rather rude and childish of me. I waz juzt curiouz by all the talk and whizperz about you…I thought you vere zomething from a bedtime ztory my mama uze to tell me."

"Nope. I'm nothing like that!" he chirped, beaming.

"Vell, in that caze—" She suddenly dropped down from the tree, landing solidly upon the ground. Allen sat up slowly as he stared, blinking owlishly.

"Vhat? Iz there zomething in my hair?" she questioned, anxiously running her hands through her dark, wavy tresses.

"No, it's just I didn't think you'd jump down like that. You know you could've twisted an ankle doing that."

"Juzt becauze I am girl doez not mean I have to be girly and veak!"

"You're right," he apologized. "I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted." Anya nodded before plopping down beside Allen, delicately crossing her legs together. He watched her eye him for a moment before procuring a ribbon seemingly out of thin air and began tying his hair back without his consent.

When he glanced at her questionably she replied, "Your hair waz making you look like girl. Now then, may I azk vhat you vere doing earlier?"

Allen rubbed his neck sheepishly. "Well…I was trying to exercise. You see I can't feel my left arm and I thought maybe if I trained, I could somehow regain the feeling in it and actually be of some use here rather than lazing around doing nothing."

"I do not think you vill get ztrength that way," Anya remarked as she studied the limb, apprehensive to even touch it. "You zhould try talking to Narein and Ozcar, or even Izabella about it."

"Why?"

"Becauze they are all acrobatz. They zhould know how to loozen up muzclez in your arm."

"You really think so?"

"If you are doubting, then I zhall get them for you," she said as she stood. "It may take a moment zo hold on."

Allen nodded understandingly, watching as she raced off to find Narein and the other two people who he could not recall ever meeting. Minutes ticked by and before long Anya was back, bringing along with her two males and a female. The teen nodded to them all, quickly divulging his problem whilst praying that they'd have a possible answer for him.

"Hmm…" Oscar hummed as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, occasionally blowing away strands of thick blond hair from his blue eyes.

"You say you can't feel anything?" Narein asked, circling around Allen curiously.

"Y-Yeah…" he stuttered, growing anxious over the amount of attention he was receiving. "Narein, can you please stop circling me like that? It makes me feel nervous."

"Oh, right, sorry," he chuckled as he plopped down beside the younger teen, his olive skin making Allen's seem translucent and terribly pale. The poor teen tried not to dwell on such a fact as he regarded his childhood friend. "It's good to see you, Narein. I hope all has been well…"

"It has for the most part," he replied with confusion knitting his brow slightly. He wanted to ask him was talking like that but couldn't get himself to at the sight of the beaming smile that lit up his face.

"That's good to hear. We should hang out sometime, to catch up."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"I'd hate to break this obviously touching moment, but I don't have all day," snapped Isabella, grabbing the other four's attention.

Anya gave a huff. "You don't have to be zo rude."

"Don't start with me, Anya." She warned as she leaned forward and took a hold of Allen's left wrist, extending the arm out to its fullest. She regarded it closely, twisting it this way and that as she asked if he could feel it or not. He said he couldn't but the more she did, the harder she jerked his joints, the more he was beginning to feel something, a dull sensation. He tried to voice this, but then she suddenly snapped his wrist down sharply, hand squeezing his own, pressing down upon the emerald cross.

The pain he had always felt whenever McQueen had forced his grotesque arm to transform into something monstrous flared terribly and soon the sound of screaming filled his ears. It took him a few seconds to register the fact that it was his own screams he was hearing and that he was flailing around helplessly, hitting people in the process. He didn't mean to, but the pain was so excruciating, so hot, that he found himself scrambling to his feet, pushing his way past the startled teens, and rushing over to the river where he dunked his twitching limb in a poor attempt to dull the edge.

Seconds past with no obvious difference, but eventually the pain began to subside, the twitches lessening, and the pressure in his head and chest fading. Taking in deep, raspy breaths, he took a moment to wipe away the sweat from his brow before he chanced looking back, not all too surprised—though deeply embarrassed and ashamed—to find the four teens staring at him in utter shock, the faces chalked white.

Allen's cheeks grew rosy with embarrassment.

He shouldn't have asked for assistance, he realized. He shouldn't have even spoken about it. But because he had, he probably wasn't going to find his way into their good graces anytime soon after that little display of his. They probably thought he was a freak, just like everyone else did! Everyone thought he was a freak, a waste of space, someone who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as everyone else. Maybe it would be better if he just…

No! Running away instead of facing the bumps and problems along the way was not what Mana would've done. He would've swallowed his pride and allowed this milestone to happen with his chin up and his head held high. He couldn't be a coward if he wished to be like Mana. He had to face it with a brave face and hope for the best.

Holding down his nerve and banishing his instinct to flee, Allen steadily got to his feet and made his way back to the group of four, a sheepish smile quirking his lips. "Sorry if I hurt any of you, I hadn't meant to," he apologized, lowering himself to the ground in front of them.

All four stared at him with questionable expressions, all of their eyes staring at him warily. But then, just when he had thought he had lost them completely, Anya leaned forward and stoke his left shoulder, concern in her round, brown eyes.

"Are you ok, Allen?"

His smile broadened and relief filled his heart. He gave a brisk nod that somehow brought the color back to the group's faces and returned their voices.

"What just happened there?" Oscar immediately asked, face glowing with interest.

"I'm not really sure why it happens but whenever someone presses down on the gem on my hand, it sends this," Allen paused, searching for the right word to describe the sensation he felt. "…this kind of pressure, that builds up my arm and moves to my head and chest. It gets so painful sometimes that, for some reason, it makes my arm change. Sometimes I'm able to stop it, if I think hard enough but most of the time I can't."

A weight that he hadn't realized was there suddenly lifted from his shoulders, as if revealing such a oddity had made it a little bit easier of coming to terms with had happened to him back in McQueen's sideshow and before long he found himself telling complete strangers—and yes, Narein had become one as well—his story.

He excluded the part about making his father an akuma but went into detail about his experience within the freak show, how McQueen had made him his star act within his twisted show. He got as far as explaining the point where he had somehow escaped, stopping at the part where he had been shot and had fallen over a cliff into the ocean.

"How did you zurvive?" asked Anya, riveted by his tale.

"A man saved me. I think…I think he took care of me for a while but I don't really remember much from the time he saved me to when I got here. I don't even remember how I managed to get here."

Isabella narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms against her chest, looking unconvinced. "I think you're making this all up. I think you just fabricated this story to make everyone feel sorry for you. I don't even think you were really in pain back there."

"But I'm not—" Allen began, only to be interrupted by Oscar and Narein, both older males coming to his rescue.

"Scars do not tell lies," Oscar intoned fiercely. "A person with that many scars wouldn't lie about how they got them."

"And I've known Allen since he was six! He always had difficulty with his left arm and I believe him when he says he's in pain when someone presses down on the emerald gem thing." Narein added, placing a reassuring hand upon Allen's pale shoulder as he glared at Isabella.

Isabella returned his glare tenfold, a look of outrage setting in on her face. "You ask for my help and this is the thanks I get?"

"Can't you think about someone else besides yourself just once?" Narein questioned.

"Why do you think I'm here? I came because you asked not because I wanted to!" Isabella cried, hot, angry tears wielding up her eyes as she shot to her feet. "I know how much Allen means to you so I came to try to help. Excuse me if I happen to not believe his so called 'story'."

"Isabella…"

"Save it Narein! You can just forget about doing the performance with me tonight, because I refuse to do it with you. If I have to I'll just tell Matthew I sprained my ankle and can't go on."

Before he could get another word in she stormed off, her stride stiff with anger. Allen, Narein, Oscar, and Anya watched her go, varying expressions on each one of their faces. Oscar was the first to break the silence. "I guess we'll just have to do the usual routine for the final show. Sorry man…I know how much you two were working on that new routine for our last show here."

"I am zorry zhe got upzet, but not zorry that zhe left. I zhouldn't have invited her in firzt place." Anya imputed, brow knitting slightly at the amazed expressions on all the young men's faces. "Vhat? Izabella getz on my nervez zometimez."

"You amaze me sometimes, Anya…" remarked Oscar with a sly smirk.

"Only becauze I zpeak my mind." She sniffed, waving away his underlying complement.

Allen studied Narein closely, steadily understanding why he looked miserable all the sudden. A small crooked grin came onto his face as he nudged the older teen a little. "Hey…what are you still doing here?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you like her that much then don't just sit here regretting what you said, go after her, apologize, and hope that she forgives you."

"But what about catching up? That wouldn't be fair to you if I just ran off after her."

"That can wait, this can't." When he didn't look convinced he added, "Narein, if you don't fix this you might end up regretting it later. Go on, I'll be fine."

Narein hesitated just a moment longer before wearily getting to his feet, jogging off in the general area that Isabella had gone. Allen watched his friend go, praying that the two would make amends. Not long after Anya left, saying she needed to see if Royal needed her for anything, leaving the two males alone. Allen himself made to leave before he noticed Oscar was staring at his arm with renewed interest, a analytical expression on his sharp face.

"What is it?" asked Allen.

His words shook Oscar out of his daze, his expression softening. "Nothing, just curious. Before I joined the circus, I had a family that wasn't the greatest. My parents fought all the time and the only person I could rely on was my older sister, Tina. She was the only one I had who I could depend on. But one day, she was sent to the market, to fetch some fish, and she never returned. Maybe it was because she couldn't stand the abuse she suffered any longer or maybe she got lost. I don't know, but when she left, I just couldn't take it anymore. So I ran away and joined the troupe. I've been here for five years next month."

"I don't—"

"When my sister was fifteen and I was eleven, we had explored a cave we had discovered. I hadn't been too careful and I had kicked the new ball Tina had gotten me for my birthday up at the ceiling. Apparently it hadn't been too stable because it caved in but before it could collapse on me, Tina pushed me away, letting herself get trapped instead.

"Even to this day I still remember the sound of her screams as the rubble set in, how her cries had suddenly risen in volume as a green light shined through the small crevices and somehow broke away the pile from a top of her and gave me an opening where I could pull her out. Despite all the cuts, bruises, and broken bones she'd suffered, she healed quickly in a matter of weeks and was back to normal save for one thing. Her arm. It was never the same after the accident and because of that my parents treated her differently."

Allen still didn't get what the point of the story was. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because my sister's arm looked a little like yours after her accident."

* * *

Night descended with a sky full of stars, not a cloud in sight in the mighty purple expanse, leaving the beams from the full moon to shine down at their fullest, illuminating the circus grounds in a fantastic silver glow. Allen silently admired the way the big top seemed almost like something from a dream, the rays of the moon making the red stripes a deep grey while enhancing the white to look like silver. A smile perked his lips as he listed to the gasps from the audience inside that soon followed by a round of applause.

He had thought about actually watching the show, upon Anya's invitation, but had decided against it at the last moment. He wasn't ready to face the very thing that made Mana who he was, to know that he would never see his painted face beam as he made the crowd laugh. He was fine with being on the outside looking in. At least here he could imagine the scenes that were going on inside, and pretend that it was Mana who was making the crowd go wild.

"Is this seat taken?"

Allen looked up to see Bell looking down at him softly, a tender smile on her face. He shook his head and beckoned her to take a seat on the cargo crate. She sat down gracefully, drawing her skirt closer so that the fabric wouldn't snag on a corner. Once settled, she ruminated in the silence for a while, staring off into the distance before pushing herself to ask, "Is something troubling you?"

"Yes," he admitted, finding that hiding the truth would be just a waste of time.

"Care to tell me what it might be?"

"It's…" he hesitated for just a moment before continuing. "It's something that Oscar told me about his sister. He said…she had an arm that was similar to mine after an accident. It had been a little more grotesque than mine though, appearing a little more misshapen and a pale grey, but there had been a jade in her wrist all the same."

"Allen…"

"What if I'm not the only one with this deformity? What if there are others out there who are just as confused about all this as I am? What if—"

"You can keep asking yourself all the 'what ifs' all you want Allen," interrupted Bell suddenly, seizing his hand into her own. She was pleased when he didn't attempt to draw it away. "But those questions are never going to have an answer if that's all you do with them."

"I want to know so much but I don't know where to start. I think…I might have to…"

His words suddenly trailed off as the sound of furious barking, his eyes soon following the form of the beagle he had seen earlier as the dog shot off into the forest to their far left, disappearing in a matter of seconds. Allen stared at the space the dog had once occupied, an eerie sense of foreboding filling him as the sounds of various bays and howls unexpectedly filled the night air, steadily rising in volume.

Slowly Allen pushed himself off the crate, his eyes fixated on the forest as he took slow steps towards it. Vaguely he was aware of Bell following a few feet behind him, asking him what was wrong. "Don't you feel that?" he asked, not quite sure what that even meant himself but still able to discern that there was an abnormal disturbance off in the forest.

His left arm shook with a tremor of eager anticipation, the pressure in his head and chest growing heavier with each second that past. He tried to ignore it but it was surmounting rather quickly, a singe of pain rolling up the limb and making him feel nauseous. He fought to remain calm as pieces of a memory began to surface, reminding him of a time in his life where he had felt this same sense of despair when he had been five and a man sitting a few rows away had been staring at him.

A time when seemingly all hell broke loose.

By now his arm was shaking with spasms, a green glow pulsating upon the back of his hand. If he hadn't been so intent on staring at the forest then maybe he would've taken notice of it. Maybe he would've tried to suppress it and scream aloud at the agony he felt because of it. But he didn't. He just continued to stare intently at the tree line as the unnamed beagle shot back out with frantic yips, quickly darting past him in a fearful attempt of finding a place to hide. Allen didn't spare it a second glance.

He was too busy staring at the cluster of rounded abominations that were floating their way towards them. More specifically, at the tormented figures that seemed chained overhead to the creatures suited only for nightmares.

The sight of those rotting, screaming bodies floating above the monsters twisted his stomach too much, causing Allen to collapse to his hands and knees and vomit upon the grass, body left shaking in the aftereffect. He could feel tears stream down his face as he struggled to erase the images of those unfortunate beings, finding himself incapable of doing so.

A sudden weight fell a top him, shielding him protectively from the sight of the creatures. Seconds later he heard gunfire, the resonating claps enough to snap him back into reality. As he rose, he realized that Bell had thrown herself over him, having been aware that the creatures were about to open fire. To his relief and her amazement she hadn't been harm, but painfully they quickly understood why.

They directed their attentions back to the strange monsters and found that someone had jumped in the line of fire, sustaining a gruesome wound to their abdomen that left a gaping hole that went right through them. The large bullet lay on the ground behind them steaming. The two watched in horror as black pentacles began spreading rapidly across their skin, darkening the flesh.

The person cocked their head over their shoulder to look at them, a small, accepting smile on their face. Unshed tears wielded up in their dark eyes as the person looked at them, not an ounce of regret shining in them as their body began degrading away. The person opened their mouth carefully, only capable of croaking out one word before they fell apart completely.

"Run…" the person urged, their smile straining as they fell back and slowly began to crumble to the ground as ash.

Allen stared at the steaming remains of the person who had sacrificed themselves in disbelief, eyes wide with vast amounts of grief, fear, and anger.

He threw back his head and howled in despair, his echoing cry agonizing to those that listened. Raw sorrow could be seen on his face as he mourned the death of a friend, a person that had helped raise him since he had been born, someone who fought to help him, to understand him. His emotions skyrocketed and pushed him past over the edge, making his arm transform into a large, silver bestial claw. A thirst for vengeance ran through his veins and a heavy rage filled him as he charged forward, intent on showing those monstrosity his wrath.

Bell watched him go, too stunned to do anything other than stare at the large pile of ash that had once been her friend and colleague. Her face was ghost white, tears in her eyes as she continued to gap at what she had just witnessed. She couldn't get herself to look at anything else and the longer she stared the steadier it began to set in. The unshed tears that once been in her eyes now streamed freely from her cheeks, sobs accompanying the roll of screams as she crumbled forward, burying her face into the palms of her hands.

"Oh God…Oh dear God! This can't be happening! Please tell me this is just all a dream. Those things couldn't have killed…!" she moaned tearfully, flinching at the sounds of Allen's barbaric cries of bloodlust. "What has this world come to?"

* * *

_Author's Note: Yes! Broke 100,000 words! That's more than I thought I'd get at this point in the story. Please leave a review to show what you think. I like to read the opinions the readers have on the chapter or just the story in general. _


	23. Fight or Flight

Ch. 22

'_Now the dark begins to rise_

_Save your breath it's far from over_

_Leave the lost and dead behind_

_Now's your chance to run for cover'_

_-Breaking Benjamin: I Will Not Bow_

Fuelled by hate and rage, Allen darted into the fray with the intent of destroying those abominations, not at all concerned or bothered by how he was going to achieve that. Instinct seemed to know what to do and as he approached, he swung his arm at them, the claw lengthening and swelling in size. Unfortunately the attack missed, coming up too short and impacting the ground hard.

He roared in frustration as the sharp claws of his hand dug into the earth, making it difficult to free it for another blow. As he fought to free his arm, the creatures encircled him as he did so, creating a barrier that kept him from fleeing. That is, if he could. His eyes darted among them, lingering on their masks that seemed to grin in triumphant glee for having trapped him.

The sight of them all grinning as they prepared to hail bullets at him caused his lips to draw back in a snarl, his attempts at freeing his arm doubling. As if sensing his distress, his claw tightened its grip on the grass and dirt, digging its way free from the compacted earth. Quickly he struggled to pull it out, freeing it in a cloud of dirt and grass. He smirked in triumph but by now the bullets were already firing down at him, nicking him in various places and wiping clean his smirk.

He gritted his teeth at the pain, falling to one knee as his flesh began to steam and the black pentacles began to mark his pale skin. His silver eyes widened at the pain, blood rising to his throat and seeping out a corner of his mouth. It wasn't until he heard Bell shriek his name that he looked up, weary eyes falling onto her frightened form as she was backed into a corner by a couple of those creatures.

Fear bubbled within him as he watched them point their cannons at her, the power charging up as they prepared to fire. He made to shout at her to run, but all he managed to do was cough up more blood. His skin was black at this point, the stars having consumed his entire body. He trembled at the pain, but that couldn't compare to the kind of pain he felt as he watched the creatures prepare to kill Bell, the helplessness he felt at only being a spectator unbearable.

He lowered his gaze and clamped his eyes shut, gritting his teeth in hopeless frustration as he awaited death to take them both. He loathed dying at this point though, having found a reason to live. He couldn't die, not tonight, not any night. He had to save Bell and learn more about his bizarre condition. There was no room for death. He had to live. He _needed_ to live!

Bell looked on to the defeated boy in sorrow, the sight of his black skin filling her heart with deep despair. Thinking he was already dead she looked away, tears streaming down her face as she resided with her fate. As she waited for the barrage of gun fire to hit her, she was startled to learn that the bullets that rained down didn't and that a young man with ginger hair and an orange scarf had stepped forward, a large hammer in his hands, the head of it shielding them both from the attack.

She couldn't see it but a large grin was on his face.

"You alright, ma'am?" he called over his shoulder, holding his ground as the barrage continued.

"Yes!" she earnestly replied, gripping the back of his shirt tightly.

"Good to hear. Now if you don't mind, could you let go of my shirt?"

Bell's mouth opened to reply but as she did, a deep, urgent cry filled the air, a sharp green light momentarily blinding them both before they noticed a large, silver claw come snapping towards them, gripping one of the round creatures in a vice until the thing exploded in a ray of light. The display encouraged the redhead's grin to grow, becoming a smirk as he politely nudged Bell back by saying, "Step back."

She did as she was told, watching with a gaze filled with amazement as the young man drew his weapon back, the hammer enlarging to an amazing size before he sent it slamming down upon the creatures, destroying the other two that had come to attack her. A satisfied smile twisted the corners of his lips as he rushed over to where Allen stood very much alive.

Allen eyed him warily as he approached, head whipping towards his direction as he pulled up to him. The older male had to struggle not to falter in his step as he stared at his young face, unable to look away from the black left eye that held two blood red rings within. Shaking himself as he forced himself to look at his entire face he asked, "You must be Allen, am I right?"

Allen gave a grunt as he turned back forward, muscles tightening in his legs as he watched the remaining creatures fan out, wreaking havoc upon his home. He was prepared to charge when the older teen remarked, "Ever seen an akuma before, Allen?"

"Is that what those bastards are?" he growled.

"Afraid so," he sighed, lifting his hammer up to sling it over one of his shoulders. "Now then, let's not let Yu and Lenalee have all the fun."

Allen snorted as he rushed forward, the stranger at his side keeping pace with him, even taking the lead at one point before they diverted from each other, Allen going left while the other teen went right. He didn't care who this young man was, or who the people he mentioned were. All he cared about was exacting his vengeance and making sure those hellish demons paid for what they did.

The death of Matthew could not go without justice.

Crudely he began hacking at the strange creatures that had managed to crawl back into his life, swinging his arm widely in an attempt to exact some damage. Frustration registered on his features as he quickly realized that all he was doing was tiring him out. Gnashing his teeth heatedly, he jumped back a few feet and found himself beside Narein, the older teen gazing at the strange monsters with disgust curling his lips, hatred knitting his brow.

The sight of his obvious anger was enough to give pause to Allen, freezing his own belligerence as he took on a persona of worry. "You shouldn't be here Narein," he shouted, subconsciously putting himself in front of the taller, leaner male.

"I'm not leaving without answers!" he barked, twisting his body swiftly to the right to miss an oncoming bullet. Ducking another, he added just as fiercely, "And I'm certainly not going anywhere without you!"

"This isn't the time to be showing off—"

"Look, if I leave now then I'm most certainly dead. If I stick by you then maybe I have a better chance."

Allen pondered his words, staring hopelessly at his stubborn face. He shook his head slowly with resignation. "Why must you make things so difficult?"

"Hey, I lost you once, I'm not about to lose you again," Narein smirked, pulling out one of the pegs used to hold down the big-top's tarp then grabbing some rope that he tied to the end of the peg, creating a very crude flail. Allen eyed it questionably. He noticed this and added, "If this thing can't give some kind of damage to those creatures, then the least I can do is distract them long enough for you to go in for the kill."

The younger boy didn't like the sound of such of plan be he begrudgingly accepted it, giving a sharp nod as he said, "Stay behind me."

With that Allen led, intending to direct Narein to a clearing where he would be safe when they ran into a very questionable creature that didn't look like any of the others attacking the circus. This own, ironically enough, looked like a demented clown that appeared to be having a jolly old time tormenting guests and employees alike. As the creature remained indulge with its task, Narein swiftly asked, "Is that creature with the other monsters?"

"I would assume so," Allen replied uncertainly.

"What are they?"

"Akuma."

"And that is…"

Allen's mouth opened for a reply when an excited squeal ripped through the air, grabbing both males' attentions. Snapping their gaze away from each other, Allen had no time to react as the clown-like akuma plucked him off the ground with one of its large fists, bringing their faces up close. He watched as the thing licked his lips eagerly, its foul breath causing his nose to wrinkle in disgust.

"Oh! You must be the innocence we felt earlier," it chortled, its grip upon his body tightening and making it difficult to breathe. "Let's see how long it takes for me to snap you like a twig!"

Its words ignited his attempt to struggle, his body twisting and turning in a vain attempt to free himself. It was then that Narein threw the sharp end of the flail at the akuma, snagging the arm that held Allen aloft. With great difficulty he tried to tug loose the vile clown's grip, his attempts amounting to nothing other than switching its attention off of Allen and onto him. The akuma gave a growl of annoyance as it foolishly tossed Allen aside and made to grab Narein.

The young carnie froze at the sight of the nightmarish clown lunging towards him, his un-jolly form looming over him in seconds as it prepared to attack. But as it pounced, the heel of a boot connected with its jaw, sending the monstrosity sprawling into a set of smaller tents off to the right. As Allen pushed himself up to his feet, he looked up to see a young woman around his age gently descend to the ground, her battle harden eyes focused on the creature she had managed to subdue before directing her gaze over to him, at which point, the harshness in her gaze was softened by a smile.

"I know this may seem a little overwhelming right now, but—"

"DUCK!"

The exclamation caused all three teenager's gazes to lift upward. The sight of a flaming serpent shooting through the night sky just feet from their heads caused both the males to drop down onto their stomachs, the female seemingly unaffected by the sight of the fire overhead. She watched it go with a look of indifference, following its path into a group of akuma on the fringe of the camp grounds. The serpent exploded in a pillar of flame upon impact, destroying the akuma in the process.

As the fire dimmed, Allen and Narein got to their feet and watched as the person who had produced the flames jogged forward, a wry grin on his face. "That makes thirteen for me Lenalee. Reckon I'm beating Yu?"

"I don't know, why don't you go ask him?" she retorted with a playful smirk, pointing to the left to show that a man—woman?—with a samurai sword was currently hacking away fiercely at akuma.

The redhead grimaced at the prospect. "I think I'll just wait until he isn't in such a killing mood. Catch yah later!"

Readjusting his grip on the war hammer he wielded, the eye-patch wearing redhead darted off to his right, disappearing through the residual throngs of people trying to escape. Lenalee watched him go for a while before directing her attention back to Allen and Narein, suddenly aware that they were still there. Concern swarmed her amethyst eyes.

"You both should get out of here and let Lavi, Kanda, and I to deal with this."

"No way! Those things…I lost almost everything the last time my home was destroyed, I won't let my home perish again, not while I can help it," Allen declared, slashing out viciously at the air. "As long as I'm alive, I fight, and I fight to protect the things I care about."

Lenalee could only stare as his passionate words sunk in, intending to refuse and deny him the chance until she noticed the intensity that grew in his silver eyes, the color, for a fraction of a split second, turning gold from supposedly the dying embers that burned a few yards behind. His look was something she'd seen often in Exorcists, a look that yearned for battle, craved for an end. And that's why she gave a nod of understanding, not bothering with unless speech as she took to the air and darted forward, sweeping past them in the blink of an eye.

The young man watched her get swallowed up into the darkness of the night before turning back forward, quickly waving his hand as a sign for Narein to follow as he made a beeline to the outskirts of the circus grounds. It filled him with relief that his estranged friend made no room for complaint, right at his heels as they weaved and twisted through the drastically thinning crowd. Allen struggled not to delve on how eerily quiet it soon became, the chilling silence permeated by the occasional scream or holler. Even the animals themselves had gone quiet.

Did this mean that the akuma were no more? His gut told him otherwise.

As they scurried around a dismantled tent that lay deflated upon the grass over a still body buried underneath, someone or something crashed into the pair, knocking them flat on their stomachs. Startled by the predicament, Allen shoved whoever it was that had pushed him to the ground away and poised his claw to strike when he heard a feminine shriek.

Turning to face them, he immediately lowered the metallic limb to the grass as he took in the sight of Anya crying hysterically, muttering something indistinct in Russian. Oscar sat beside her, holding her to his chest as he stared pale faced at Allen's arm. Both of their bodies were covered with splotches of dirt, a few cuts and bruises resulting from something other than the akuma. Tremors of fear shook their frames and for a second Allen thought Oscar was going to finally break down and cry. But as if by the grace of God, Narein ambled forward as a beacon of reassurance to the two frightened teens.

"Are you guys okay?" he asked, distracting Oscar enough to have him forget about Allen and his strange appearance.

"Y-Yeah…" he gasped, "We were looking for you two. We…we feared the worse when we got past the grounds and we didn't see either of you amongst the survivors."

"Who all was there?"

"A few of the crew members, uh…Bell, Isabella, some clowns, Roger—you know, the guy who sells the tickets—err…who else…"

"What about Alina, was she there?" asked Allen, earnest to know the fate of his friend and caretaker.

Oscar shifted his blue eyes over briefly as he coughed, "I didn't see her…"

"Have you guyz zeen Royal?" Anya hiccupped, refusing to look at anything other than Oscar's bare chest.

Narein shook his head. "No, but, knowing him he'd be with the animals. He's stubborn like that, so I'm sure he's fine. Did you see Matthew—?"

"Matthew's dead."

Oscar and Narein flicked their gazes back to Allen, shock in their features as they stared at Allen's bowed head. The death of their teacher freed tears from Oscar's eyes, the teen weeping silently as Narein grounded his teeth together in emotional pain. Allen kept his hollow gaze directed at the grass, plucking a few strands as exhaustion began to steadily set in and lightheadedness fogged his senses.

The group was silent for a moment until the sound of guttural chuckles sent waves of fear through them, the noise flickering on a switch of adrenaline once more in Allen. Swiftly rising to his feet, it took him a second to see the clownish akuma from before skipping merrily towards them, its madden eyes rolling around their sockets as it remained unaware of their presence. His arm flexed in patient anticipation.

Narein chose to stare at Allen rather than the akuma, dreading the way his body remained tense, muscles all about his body coiling as he willingly became a human shield for the three of them. Rising to his feet slowly, Narein eyed his crude flail carefully, a painful expression twisting his face.

A large part of him screamed to just dash out to the akuma thing and distract it long enough for his three friends to escape. But the other, rational, part of him told him that Allen would not turn tail and run, not while he was more capable of dispatching the thing than the three of them were. His friend wouldn't want him to sacrifice his life for nothing; he would want him to be pillar of strength for the two that remained on their knees in trepidation, fearing their possible fate.

So that's why, with heavy reluctance, he dropped his makeshift weapon and turned back to Oscar and Anya.

"We need to get out of here before that thing realizes we're here," Narein explained. "Oscar, do you think you can carry Anya?"

"I-I-I suppose…"

"Good," he nodded before looking to Allen and adding, "You better not die out here because if you do, I'll make it my first priority to bringing you back."

He failed to notice the flinch that Allen made at his words, a frown twisting the corners of his lips downward. Licking his lips anxiously, Allen forced a smile to his face as he replied, "I don't see me dying anytime soon, but I appreciate the sentiment. Just be careful, Narein."

"I will. Take care, Allen."

"Take care, Narein."

Allen listened to their retreating footsteps, hoping that he was making the right choice in staying behind to face a creature that had the potential and the drive to kill him. But he was not going down without one hell of a fight. He may be tired, but that wasn't going to stop him kicking that thing's ass!

Rolling his sweaty shoulders, he braced himself as he hollered, "Hey! Looking for me!"

The akuma's head snapped forward, his eyes focusing on his form as a toothy smile grew on its grotesque face. "Ohhh…fresh prey…have you come to play with me foolish husk of flesh?"

"No," Allen growled, bringing his claw out in front of him. "I've come to destroy you."

"_Hahaha_…silly child!" it chortled, unexpectedly growing rigid and tense, face filled with a yearning for bloodshed. "I want to kill! I want to kill _you_!"

Narrowing his eyes, Allen charged forward, claw held high and a cry ripping past his throat. The akuma charged forward as well, the two colliding a flurry of limbs. Allen slashed and swiped desperately as he and the akuma twisted through the air, the ghastly creature cackling maniacally as it stabbed him repeatedly with its sharp nails in his thighs and shoulders. Landing on his back harshly, he kicked the nightmarish clown away from him and rolled back, pushing himself up to his feet by using the momentum.

When he looked up, he wasn't staring at the akuma. He was staring at himself!

As he openly gawked, his doppelganger sent their clawed right arm forward, the individual talons digging into the soft flesh of his back and stomach. The grip tightened as he was slammed onto his side, fresh pain erupting as he was repeatedly smashed into the earth, to the point where a small crater was beginning to form. Somewhere along the way, amongst the haze of pain and delirium his arm reverted back to its usual red-skinned self, leaving him utterly defenseless.

Tossed to the side like a rag doll, he landed on a nearby tent like a broken marionette, causing the tarp to collapse on its self. He gave a groggy groan as he laid sprawled on the weather-beaten material, dazed and beaten. He hurt all over and the fight hadn't even lasted five minutes! Had he been presumptuous to think that he could actually beat this abomination with what little experience he had with using his arm? Apparently he had if his broken body was proof enough.

As his adversary advanced, it steadily became clear to Allen that he wasn't going to get out of this alive like he thought he had. He was tired beyond belief, his eyes heavy with fatigue, his burst of adrenaline fading and making his wounds ache with agony. Panting heavily, his vision began to spot, everything spinning and swaying terribly. He struggled to get up, but his muscles wouldn't obey him. Nothing would, and soon he found himself being strangled by his copycat.

"Pity you couldn't put up a better fight," his reflection growled, his face twisting to a much more benevolent expression that look far too demonic to be human. It licked its lips anxiously. "I was only getting started!"

He could only watch with fading vision as the akuma posed an exact copy of his clawed arm over his head, fully capable and ready to smash his skull in. A weak, pitiful whimper escaped his slightly parted lips as he waited for the inevitable to happen, for his death to take him into Mana's loving embrace. But then, just as consciousness faded, a faint, velvety voice seemed to whisper in his ear, saying:

"_This isn't it the end. Get up."_

And somehow, he did.

* * *

"Phew…I think that's the last of them," Lavi sighed as he wiped his sweaty forehead with the back of his hand, turning his attention to his comrades who appeared just as disheveled as he felt. "What a way to kick things off, don'tcha think?"

Lenalee gave a somber frown as she surveyed the area. Tents had been torn down, some even trampled. Small fires that had been ignited by the akuma's gunfire lay scattered, lightly burning away at whatever surface they greedily touched. Innumerable amounts of steaming piles of ash littered the ground, marking the places were individuals had been unfortunate enough to meet their ends. Not a soul they could see remained on the circus grounds, the silence permeated only by the occasional bellow from an exotic beast. Other than that, the place looked like a warzone, nothing left unscathed by the ferocity of the akuma and the Exorcists.

She hoped the circus folk would be able to recover after this incident.

"Things could've been better than this, Lavi," Lenalee replied slowly, bending down to pick up a grime covered rubber ball, squeezing it carefully. "A lot of people lost their lives tonight."

"It matters little the casualty rate. We did what we are meant to, and that was to destroy any and all akuma." Kanda muttered pompously as he sheathed Mugen, strapping the scabbard back to his belt.

"Still…it would've been even better if so many hadn't been killed."

"We can't change that, Lenalee," Lavi said delicately, placing a gloved palm on her shoulder. "We can only be grateful that we came when we did, and were able to save those who still live. If the akuma hadn't attacked, who knows if we would've been able to find Allen."

"You're right. The hard part is over now. All we have left to do is convince him to come with us, which shouldn't prove to be much of a challenge." She remarked thoughtfully, fingering the toy in her hand until a shout caught their attention, three heads turning to watch a tanned skin, lanky teen rush up to, his expression wary but earnest.

When he made it to them, he doubled over, bracing himself by placing his hands on his knees as he panted heavily, barely managing to gasp, "Have any of you seen a white-haired boy around my age named Allen Walker?"

"No, not since we crossed paths earlier," Lenalee replied. "Why?"

"I…I left him behind to help my friends. I figured he could take care of the akuma but…"

"You mean you left an imbecile to die, is that what you're saying?" Kanda questioned brutally. "You left an inexperienced accommodator to face an akuma all on his own, without any form of back up or assistance."

"What was I suppose to do? He seemed fine facing the ball-shaped ones, why should the clownish one be any different?"

"Clownish one?" Lavi muttered, trying to process what he meant.

Lenalee's eyes grew wide. "You mean the level two?"

"Level…what?"

"There's no chance the kid survived facing against a level two. It's best that we assume he's dead and hope that we find his body in time to retrieve his innocence." Kanda remarked with a scowl, his arms folding across his chest.

"How can you say that?" Narein shouted. "I don't understand what exactly you're talking about, but you're implying that my friend is dead, and I know for a fact that Allen is—"

He trailed off as something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning towards it, his heart leapt with joy at the sight Alina dragging the unconscious and battered form of Allen. Beaming with relief, Narein waved as he called out to the Gypsy, running up to her side once he had had her attention. The trio of Exorcists looked on with some form of amazement sparkling in their eyes.

Kanda gave an indignant snort. "Impossible. There's no way that little runt could've taken on a level two and lived."

"Never say never, Yu." Lavi chortled, earning a harsh cuff to the head.

"Don't call me that!" he snapped.

As the two squabbled, Lenalee watched the small group quietly, noting how the older woman nearly tossed Allen into the teen's arms, hugging herself soon as she was rid of his weight. The teen said something as he supported Allen, to which he only received a few words in return. Soon the trio moved forward, eventually passing them as they made for the outskirts of the grounds. As she stared, her eyes met with the older female, and she couldn't help noticing how pale and frightened she appeared.

And judging from the frivolous glances she made towards Allen, it hadn't been what happened that scared her. For some reason it seemed as though Allen was the one she was frightened of.

Why was that? Was it because she had seen his arm take on the shape of a deadly weapon? Or was it something else entirely?

* * *

_Author's Note: Two updates in the same month! Must be a shocker to some of you, seeing as how I've only manage to get around updating once a month at best. And no, there's no catch to this! I simply felt the chapter met an appropriate close. _

_To those who may be thinking that the akuma is similar to the one Allen and Kanda face in Mater: it is. Right in my summary it says, 'Reboot and rewrite of timeline'. That means I've decided to take liberty of the sequence of canonical events and rewrite them in a way I find it best. The story will have (and has had) several changes in comparison to the canon universe, but there will also be parts of canon that will more or less remain the same. _

_In other words, this is technically an AU, in case that wasn't clear._

_I like to think that my decision of omitting the 'training' with Cross after Mana's death has no part in the decline of readers/reviewers but I can't be sure sometimes…If it helps any, Allen will be joining the Order very soon, heralding the approach of a much more familiar and enjoyable setting and cast of characters. _

_Please, if people are still reading this rather lengthy author's note, don't be afraid to ask questions or state opinions. I mentioned in the previous chapter that I love reading what people think. Don't be shy with your comments/complaints/gushing._

_To wrap this up, I'd like to thank __LaraOXM__ for being a rather faithful reviewer. Though I probably didn't capture the setting as well as you would've liked, I tried my best to keep it mind while this chapter was written. Thank you for always taking a moment to write something about the chapter(s)!_

_(Sorry this got so long, had quite a bit to say) _


	24. It's Hard to Say Goodbye

Ch. 23

'_I'll spread my wings_

_And I'll learn how to fly_

_Though it's not easy to tell you goodbye_

_I gotta take a risk_

_Take a chance_

_Make a change_

_And breakaway_

_Out of the darkness_

_And into the sun_

_But I won't forget the place I come from'_

_-Kelly Clarkson: Breakaway_

Alina sat anxiously beside's Allen body as he lay out on salvaged sheets, his wounds treated to the best of anyone's ability. A light snore could be heard from, indicating a peaceful slumber despite all the scrapes and bruises that ailed his body. Frequently her eyes would dart to his face, as if expecting something to happen. Her hands shook with the lingering effects of shock and fear, her mind unable to keep away unbidden memories of what she had bared witnessed to.

_Flashback_

_It was the sound of screams that alerted her that something was amiss. A sense of forewarning dread grew in her heart as she rose from the chair inside her tent, gaze focused on the flap of her tent as she gravely proceeded towards it. With slight trepidation she pulled back the tarp, revealing a scene only deemed to be fit in a person's nightmare._

_Solemnly she watched as a youth with red hair directed the crowd of frightened guests and carnies alike away from the circus grounds, a mighty hammer slung on one shoulder. With critical eyes she studied him, scanning his person and noticing a strange symbol sewn into the jacket on his breast, right over his heart. Instantaneously a flash of a possible fragment of the redhead's future assaulted her, subjecting her to a scene in which the young man was held aloft by a dark hand around his throat, his struggles left unabated as he was strangled to death._

_The fleeting scene left the Gypsy slightly disorientated, her footing swaying momentarily as her senses returned to the present. It was then that she notice the youth charge off into the night, war hammer held posed in expert hands as he bashed into those unfortunately familiar creatures she had hoped she would never see again. _

_Her attention didn't last long on the redhead for suddenly another strange young man jumped into scene, landing a few feet away to her right. Again she was subjected to a mere glimpse of the swordsman's future, seeing him rundown by a sword of impressive size, his face drawn back in a grim expression as the light in his eyes faded. _

_As the flash faded, Alina was again assaulted by a wave of disorientation, this time failing to notice the gruff voice question her until he repeated himself for the third time._

"_I would suggest you get back unless you're hoping to get killed," the youth barked, growing impatient with the lack of response._

_Panting slightly from the dizzying shifts in mind, she blinked a few times until she realized that the young man was standing beside her with an irritated scowl. _

"_Like you even care whether I live or die tonight, you arrogant, thickheaded child!" Alina snapped, mildly startling the swordsman._

_He glowered at her silently. "Fine," he tersely replied. "Stand here all you want. But I'm sure as hell not going to stand around and let myself get killed like a fool. Don't say I didn't try to help."_

_With an added snort he ran off, his katana blade gleaming with the rays of the moon. He disappeared like a ghost, appearing one moment then gone the next. Alina shook her head with amusement, having gathered that it was only his outward character and not something about her that made him act so brusque. Something told her that the root of the problem lied in his past. That was what her senses were telling her at least._

_Unwilling to linger in one spot too long, because frankly she had no intention of dying, Alina wandered off with no purpose to the left. As if in a dream she was led to a spot, undaunted—or uncaring it would seem to those who may look into her blank face—by the carnage that laid waste all around her. _

_Nothing tried to stand in her way or even approached her. None of the abominations seem to care that she was there, not even acknowledging her presence as she skirted around them with ease. Through staggering throngs of people she stepped forward, gaze focused on a spot in the distance where she could just barely make out a form being strangled by some demented person whose cackle filled the air._

_She soon realized that both figures were Allen. But how was that possible?_

_Unsure of how that was explainable, Alina nonetheless made her way towards the pair, her mouth opening up to shout out his name. But as she did so, she paused, noticing something very strange coming from the Allen that was being strangled and at this point had fallen unconscious. His left arm shot up and seized the other boy by the throat, his grip ruthless as he threw him away with unnatural strength._

"_Gyah," the boy grunted, his face twisting into a sinister visage, showing that it wasn't the real Allen. _

_The thing rubbed its throat briefly before it shot forward, right arm morphing into something akin to a pitch fork. Alina silently watched as the real Allen stood up, his upper body swaying back forth as his half-lidded eyes stared blankly at the ground. Just as the doppelganger was closing in, his head snapped up and with a speed unbecoming of him he evaded the stabs made at him, twisting and turning with an eerily fluid ease._

_He moved with fascinating grace; it was if he were a mere puppet being pulled by invisible strings. His fluidity was unnatural, his body precariously swaying as he spun around a strike before his right hand balled into a fist. He punched forward at the abdomen, winding the creature by the sheer power behind the blow. Before the thing had time to recover or react, Allen flattened his left hand and sent it right into its chest._

_For a second nothing happened as Allen left his hand imbedded wrist deep in the chest cavity of his copy, unperturbed gaze focused on his copy until oily black blood flooded over his raw skin. The creature gave an agonized scream before it imploded, fading away in streams of light. Even with it gone Allen still held the pose, rigid still as he watched some un-seeable thing rise up in the night sky._

_Slowly his stance fell away, this time his body not swaying on the spot like some drunkard. He stood there for what felt like hours, dead gaze focused blankly at his left hand as he lifted it up to view. Slowly he clenched and unclenched his fingers, doing so five times until he finally looked up, directing his attention at her. _

_Bottomless amber eyes stared into her dark brown ones, his once impassive face breaking out in wide sinister smile as deep chuckles an octave lower reached her ears. She stared in horror as he approached her, a strange sort of swagger in his steps as he drew closer. The nearer he got, the more flashes appeared across her mind's eye, handing out horrible premonitions of Allen's future. _

_Him standing in a pile of destruction giggling like a lunatic._

_Him fighting against a strange rotund gentleman with a stressed smile. _

_Him toying with a girl with ebony locks around his own age as he snapped each one of her fingers individually._

_Him smiling dolefully as he stood amongst a group of people, seemingly on trial._

_Him slashing the throat of some scientist, a gleeful gleam in his amber eyes._

_Him screaming up to the heavens as he shook the crisscrossing bars of his prison._

_Alina forced herself out of these glimpses, unable to stand the horrid nature of it all. Repulsed by what she had regretfully caught sight of, the Gypsy could only look up as she placed a trembling hand on her pallid forehead. Eyes fearfully landed on Allen, who stood directly in front of her, his cackles having died down to light hums. _

_Under different circumstances she might have fled, but something had kept her rooted in place and gave her strength to do something unthinkable. Swiftly she embraced him, shocking him rightfully, and began spewing things that made absolutely no sense to her whatsoever. Words tumbled out of her mouth like a torrent of water, unstoppable._

"_Don't let the memory take over, Allen. Don't let it destroy who you are and turn you into something that you're not. You are Allen Walker, son of Mana Walker. That is who you are. You can't become the villain; you have to be the hero!"_

_As she held him close, running her hand through his hair like she had when he had been a child, she silently gaped at her own words, baffled by where it had come from. She didn't understand what it meant; all she could understand was that the scale destiny had placed him on held a heroic path on one side and a villainous side on the other. Only choices made in life would the scale be tipped to one side's favor. _

_Allen stared dully at the sky, a bittersweet expression on his face. Pushing Alina away, he gripped her shoulders tightly as he leveled his gaze to hers. A bemused smirk twisted a corner of his mouth; carefully he withdrew a hand, lifted his index finger, and drew it to his lips in a gesture of silence. Slowly, he mouthed: It's our little secret._

_She gawked at him questionably until the amber in his eyes was no more, regular silver staring back at her until they too disappeared behind closed lids, his body sagging to the ground. Trembling from the whole ordeal, she hesitantly slipped her hands under his armpits and proceeded to drag him away in hopes of finding some help._

_End of Flashback_

She had tried everything in ridding her head of the horrible image of him grinning at her like some predator, but nothing seemed to work. She couldn't even control the tremors that shook her body. In time she was sure it would pass, but the image would most likely haunt her for the rest of her life. One simply couldn't rid themselves of such an image, no matter how much they wished or hard they tried.

Shaking her head ruefully, Alina lowered a shaking hand to Allen's face, drawing a finger along his ill-healed scar, a thoughtful frown on her face. It was painfully clear to her now that Allen's future was far bigger than that of a meager circus with its streak of misfortune. Deep down she had known this ever since she had read his fortune through the tarot cards when he had only been five years old.

Maybe she had hoped that his cloudy future would change in time by the choices he made. Maybe his future was preordained and nothing about it would change, even if somehow his decisions did. Whatever the case may be, there still laid a dark and lonely road to be treaded upon, one where the prospects of hope were few and far between. She could only pray that his uncertain future wasn't as dreary as it appeared to be. But she may be asking too much, she feared.

As she studied him, she was startled to feel a hand fall upon her shoulder, the contact sending her nerves rippling. Reeling in fright, she was slightly relieved to find Royal staring back at her, a sympathetic look on his scruffy face.

"How is Allen?" he asked, nursing what appeared to be a broken wrist.

"F-Fine," she stammered. "H-He's going to be fine…"

"And you, Alina?" he pressed gently.

"I fine as well," she whispered as she drew her hand away from Allen's cheek. A broken look pained her eyes the longer she studied his peaceful face.

She knew what needed to be done.

* * *

"You must forgive us, I'm afraid this is all we are able to offer you," Bell replied as she handed the Exorcist a tin cup filled with freshly brewed tea.

"Thank you," Lenalee replied gratefully as she took a polite sip.

"We are indebted to you three after all," Bell explained as she took a seat by the campfire made just a half-hour earlier. "If you all hadn't come along the way you had, I'm pretty sure we would've suffered far more damage than we had."

"There's no need to apologize. In fact, it should be us apologizing to you. I'm afraid our actions were not at all helpful towards your camp."

"Don't worry about it, we've experienced this sort of thing once a long time ago, and back then it was far worse. Our camp was obliterated and we had to start fresh. With your friends' help, I'm sure we'll be able to salvage most of our tents and equipment. What we don't we can always purchase in the next town. We'll be heading out soon enough once the sun rises."

"You're leaving so soon?"

"I'm afraid the show must go on, and if we don't leave as planned, we'll stray from our schedule. Besides, I don't think many of us wish to stay after baring this terrible loss, especially when we've lost so many good people tonight."

"I see…" Lenalee murmured as she stared down at her tea, "Well, I would've liked to mention this later on but seeing as how you won't be here for much longer, this cannot be avoided."

"What do you mean?"

"It's about Allen, he…"

"He needs to go with them."

Both women turned to see Alina approach, a bit more composure in her features now than before. The Gypsy remained standing as she stopped before them, her gaze locked with Bell's. "Allen can't stay with us anymore."

"Alina!" Bell gasped, amazed. "Weren't you the own so adamant about keeping him with us? Why…how…"

"You saw what he did, you saw how he attacked those creatures," Alina persisted. "Allen is someone special, someone whose destiny lies well beyond this circus. He _needs_ to go with them, because they're the only ones who can set him down the path he _needs_ to take. The path he has to take."

Bell eyed her peculiarly, noticing a desperate and pleading hint in her dark eyes. Normally she would've expected the Gypsy trying to argue his case. But to find her trying to convince her why Allen should go was downright surprising. She had hoped that she at least would have been a means of support if this proposition had arisen, but clearly she was wrong. Clearly Alina was anxious to send Allen away after what happened just an hour ago.

"But…"

"Please let me go with them."

All three women directed their attentions over to the now very much awake Allen, his uncertain gaze shifting amongst them. He fidgety nervously on the spot.

"Allen, I don't—"

"If it had been any other day I would've thought leaving would've been terrible, and I changed my attitude just so that you guys wouldn't have reason to send me to the orphanage before you moved on. But I realize that I am _different_, and that me being here will probably cause more harm than good." Allen explained, exhaling shakily. "That's why you have to let me go with them. I…I need to know more about my arm and something tells me that they'll be able to give me the answers I need, right?"

Lenalee realized belatedly that he was looking to her for support. Jumping to her feet swiftly, the Exorcist moved to stand beside him. "Yes. My friends and I are a part of an organization known as the Black Order who specialize in people who are different. People like us." She then turned to him and remarked, "You're actually why we're even here in the first place, Allen."

"Really? How'd you know who I was?"

"My brother, the Chief of the Main Headquarters, received a call from a man named Cross. He…what?" Lenalee stopped at the strange look she was receiving from the boy.

Allen's face showed that he recognized the name, a distasteful grimace hardening his features. "Even though he saved my life, I hate him. He's a selfish, arrogant piece of motherfu—"

"Allen Walker!" Alina and Bell admonished, their stares burning right into him, making the teen uncomfortable.

"Sorry!" he hastily mumbled. "Manners, I know."

"Anyways," Lenalee giggled, bringing the explanation back up. "Like I was saying, we received a call from him saying an accommodator—someone like you—was in Canterbury, so naturally a couple of my comrades and I were sent to retrieve you. It came as a pleasant surprise when we found out that you had escaped that awful freakshow."

"Freakshow!" Bell gasped, startled to learn that that was where he had been all those years.

Allen flinched slightly as his previous whereabouts came to light, the faint scars and welts on his back momentarily inflicting him with a phantom pain. He had hoped to never reveal where he had been or what had happened to him to those he cared about. It would only give them pain, something he wasn't keen on giving.

"It's in the past now," Allen whispered morosely. "I'd like to keep it that way if that's alright with everyone."

A consensus seemed to have been made amongst the women for no one mentioned it again. Instead, the conversation drifted back to Lenalee's explanation of the events that had led up to her and her comrades' arrival. They had gained a bit of insight on who Allen was by a woman named Molly. At the mention of the name, a bright beam came upon the young teen's face, a sense of relief filling him as Lenalee assured him that she was alright despite her situation.

With that little bit of knowledge the trio had set off with no clear destination in mind. But then, just as they were discussing which direction to take, a revelation in the shape of a golden golem appeared.

"Gold golem?" Allen murmured with a quizzical tilt of his head, the words sounding vaguely familiar.

"Yes, it was General Cross's golem." She replied before lifting her gaze to survey the sky. She did this for a few seconds until she found what she was looking for and pointed up. All gazes looked up to see a glint of gold flash in the sky before it came zooming down, ramming itself right against Allen's head.

He recoiled from the blow, clutching his head as he leaned it against his knees. Swearing under his breath as the pain became a persistent throb, he looked up to see the very same gold creature that had guided him through the woods. And here he thought he had made the thing up! The thing flashed him a toothy grin before settling down on the top of his head.

Lenalee smiled as the golem nestled into his hair. "Timcanpy seems to like you."

"Oh, me and Tim, we've met before," Allen remarked casually as he fingered the golden golem, stroking one of its wings.

Alina and Bell silently observed the two teens interact, noting a new splash of light appearing in Allen's usually morose eyes as he inquired about the organization she and her friends were affiliated with. It was watching them talk that Bell began to realize and accept that Allen would not benefit from staying here with them. He wanted to go, and she had no right to stop him.

"Fine…I guess there's no other way," Bell whispered to herself.

A reassuring hand fell upon one of her shoulders, her attention going to meet Alina's. The Gypsy gave a solitary nod that said more things than words could at a moment like this. The gesture gave her assurance that her next words were indeed the right ones.

"If you really feel so strongly about it, then you should go and get the answers you seek. I would hate to be the reason keeping you here, Allen. So…I think it would be better if you were to go with them." Bell relented, her voice hitching with emotion.

She struggled to not let it consume her, but she couldn't help it when Allen hugged her. "Thank you," he murmured into her shoulder. "It means a lot that you're letting me go. I promise I'll come back as soon I learn more about my arm."

Bell studied Lenalee discreetly from over Allen's shoulder, wondering if anyone else noticed the look of dismay and anguish in her eyes and on her face after hearing Allen's promise.

She had a sinking feeling that Allen's words would not be fulfilled, no matter how hard he wished to, no matter how hard he tried.

* * *

As dawn broke across the horizon, Allen was seen watching the sun rise, his face unreadable as he simmered in his thoughts. The gold golem named Timcanpy rested on his shoulder, the foreign weight seemingly soothing. Periodically he stroked a finger along its smooth surface, earning an affectionate nuzzle in return. He didn't know why but the small golem had taken up quite a liking to him, having not left his side since their reunion.

No matter how much he tried to remind himself, the fact that this was Cross's golem could not deter him from actually enjoying the small creature's company.

Ever since he had awoken during the middle of the night, having convinced his caretakers his need to go, he had been unable to fall back asleep. He was anxious and fairly nervous at the prospect of gaining some answers that the thought of sleep just paled in comparison. So up to this point in time he had remained awake and alert, sitting vigilantly upon a nearby hill that overlook the circus camp, or what was left of it at least.

Even with the few streams of light that illuminated the sky, he could still make out distinct activity. Seemingly everyone was up and about, swiftly dismantling whatever had managed to remain standing after last night's attack. They all worked together to make sure that their remaining supplies were properly packed away in one of the numerous traveling wagons. With numerous people from the camp declared missing and presumed dead, a lot of work was handed to the teens, who did their best to do what they could.

A sense of jealousy gripped him the longer he watched, envious of those who could help. He could offer his assistance, but he wouldn't be much help with a crippled left arm to contend with. He'd only get in the way, he reminded himself.

Sighing in defeat, he rubbed the kink out of his neck before rising to his feet. Beside him was a suitcase containing all of his meager belongings, as little as that was. Another pair of pants, a button-up shirt, and a picture frame containing a photograph of him and Mana when he had been a baby. It was all he had and all he needed.

It would be enough for him as he travelled with the Exorcists to the Headquarters they had briefed him about before retiring at the inn in town. They had said that they would return at dawn and it didn't surprise him when he spotted their silhouettes approaching the hill he resided on. But they weren't alone.

Alina, Bell, and Narein had joined the odd trio, looks of varying despair on their faces. The sight made Allen even guiltier, especially when he was leaving them during a distressing time and had intended on going without them realizing it until it was too late. He wasn't very good at goodbyes after all.

"We'll give you a few minutes," Lenalee said gently to him, giving his arm a lingering squeeze as she and her companions stepped off to the side, giving him the privacy he needed to say his goodbyes.

Allen stood there awkwardly, shamefully staring at his feet as he waited for one of them to verbally reprimand him for his motif. Instead the three looked to each other before presenting him three rubber balls, one red, one blue, and one yellow. He could only stare at them with curiosity, not quite getting the meaning behind them until Narein explained, "It's for you to practice juggling, so that you'll be ready for some real practice when you get back."

He felt deeply touched by the gesture, his eyes going glassy with tears of appreciation. He took the balls and placed them safely into his suitcase, smiling softly as he looked back at them.

"I-I don't know what to say…" he admitted, sniffing slightly as he rubbed at his eyes.

"Just promise that you'll be careful out there," Bell instructed, fighting back her own tears.

He gave an assured nod. "I will, of course." He surveyed them for a moment before adding, "You'll hardly know I'm gone, I'll be back that fast."

Sorrow shaded her gentle eyes, despair making her bite her bottom lip in an attempt of combating the tears. "Yes…well…" she said thickly, "Just know that you'll always have a place here with us." She then handed him a folded piece of paper that held hastily written handwriting in it. "Here's a list of the places we'll be showing at, in case you need to find us. We'll be heading for Northampton soon."

"Alright," he said, pocketing the paper. "Hopefully I'll meet you all there when I get all the answers I need. If not, then I can always make my way to the next town you're at."

He was so full of optimism that Bell didn't have the heart to speak her doubts and Alina couldn't voice her honest opinion about how she felt the chances of seeing him again were nonexistent. But Narein seemed thoughtful, his brow knitted as if he had an internal struggle with himself over something that nobody could possibly understand at the moment.

"Don't take too long now, wouldn't want you to forget all about us," he remarked belatedly after noticing that Allen was staring at him expectantly.

Allen gave a genuine smile. "You guys? Never." He stepped forward and drew the teen into a hug, one that was quick but meaningful.

"Take care, Allen," said Narein, a hint of something indefinable in his voice, as if he was reluctant to speak such words of parting.

"You too, Narein," Allen whispered as he pulled away, turning back to the two women who had both equally been a mother figure to him.

"I…I guess this is goodbye for now," he murmured, soon drawn into another hug between Bell and Alina, the two having finally broken down into tears.

"Allen, no matter what happens, stay strong and be safe," Alina murmured into his shouler. He replied by tightening the embrace.

Bell rubbed his back slowly, unable to add anything other than her despair. Silently she prayed for him a safe journey down whatever path this life would take him. She treasured the times she had spent with him, even rejoiced at his return, but now it was time to let him go.

Memories of him would always have a place in her heart.

Allen reluctantly pulled away, hastily wiping at his eyes in a poor attempt of hiding his tears. With a soft smile he stepped back, giving a slow wave before seizing his suitcase and finally turning away from the people that had been his family since the day he was born. He followed behind the Exorcists, maintaining a constant distance between them as they descended down the hill towards the carriage.

They watched him go with heavy grief, noting the way he would periodically look back at them to check if they were still there. The longer he watched him go, the more tormented Narein felt as indecision gripped him and impulsively he shouted, "Allen, wait!"

The white-haired teen stopped at the cry, looking back with an expression that showed confusion and wonderment. Alina and Bell watched as the young acrobat jogged down the hill to where the party stood, coming to Allen with an adamant look on his face. Looks of concern was on their faces as they watched, unable to hear what was about to be said.

"I'm coming with you!" he proclaimed, aware of everyone's surprise by his words.

Allen struggled for words, baffled by his friend's statement. "Narein…t-this doesn't concern you…" he nervously explained, hoping he wouldn't anger his friend with the truth.

Narein rested a firm hand upon the younger boy's shoulder, his eyes holding a look that spoke volumes yet revealed nothing. "Allen, you're the closest thing I have to a brother. Seven years ago, when I had found you missing from our tent and gone from the camp, I was devastated. It tormented me not knowing what happened to you. To have you return is nothing short of a miracle, and I…I can't bear the thought of losing you again."

A wry smirk grew on his face as he added, "Besides, who's going to make sure you get back home all in one piece?"

"Hey! I'm every bit capable of making it back as you are!"

"If I recall correctly, you were the one who was constantly getting lost."

"Those were just rare occurrences…" retorted Allen, flushed with embarrassment. "But you're not even packed!"

Narein shrugged. "I don't have a lot to bring, and I'm use to being on the move. I just won't bring anything."

"Yeah, well…it's not my decision to make whether you can come or not!" Allen declared, turning to the trio of Exorcists who observed this scene with annoyance, worry, or curiosity. "Tell Narein he can't come with me!"

"If you say no, then nothing's stopping me from following you lot anyway," assured Narein with formidable clarity

Kanda narrowed his eyes, steaming with aggravation as he stared at a teen that was acting very much like a child at the moment.

Lenalee exchanged a hesitant look with Lavi, silently seeking for his guidance in an area she was not familiar with. Could new accommodators even bring outsiders with them when they joined? She didn't know but Lavi seemed to for he pulled her aside and whispered, "There aren't any rules prohibiting a person from coming along. I say we take him with us. We could always use more Finders."

"Yes, but I don't think either of them gets what they're getting into," protested Lenalee, wary of bringing two individuals who didn't understand the circumstances that involved this trip. Neither of them would ever see their friends and the place they called home again.

"Maybe it's better that they don't understand fully what's going on. How else will we get him to come along with us if we told him outright that he can come and get all the answers he wants but he can't leave? That's not exactly a good marketing pitch."

"We can't deceive him either!" hissed Lenalee, unwilling to continue withholding the complete truth.

Kanda, having watched the two go back and forth with each other, decided to take matters into his own hands. Stepping forward, he sent a mighty glare over to Allen and Narein as he said, "This isn't some field trip that you two get to have because you feel like it. This is a choice, a choice you can't take back once it has been made," he shifted his attention primarily to Allen, "but even then you really don't have any say in the matter."

"What do you mean?" Allen was nervous to hear the reply, a sense of doom impending on him.

"I mean that, whether you wish to or not, you _will_ come with us because that was what we were sent here to do."

"But I am coming with you all—"

"You don't get it, do you Beansprout?" Kanda snarled, thrusting a finger at the insignia on his black coat. "See this crest? This shows my affiliation to the Black Order and my coat shows the rank I have within it, a rank your stupid ass will be in once we take to the Order. You will become an Exorcist."

Allen's eyes grew wide in recognition of the word 'Exorcist'. A long forgotten memory rose from the fog of his conscious, reminding him of time in his childhood where someone had asked him if he would like to be Exorcist. He had refused because of the sorrow he had felt after destroying Mana's akuma.

He was afraid of having to go through such an experience again, frightened that he would have to eliminate another person who was close to him. But then a conflicting thought came to mind: what if he turned that sorrow into strength and used it to protect those that still mattered?

"I…" Allen stuttered, tormented with indecision.

Kanda gave a scowl of contempt as he made to grab the indecisive teen. "Come on, we don't have all day—"

"NO!" shouted Allen as he slapped the hand away, taking a step back. He watched the three Exorcists with fearful eyes. "I-I need time to think this over! I can't just leave and become an Exorcist just like that! I won't!"

Before anyone could put in another word, Allen bolted, running off to the only place he knew he'd find stability and comfort: Mana's grave.

* * *

"I…don't know what to do Mana," admitted Allen as he sat before the tombstone of his father's grave. "I know I need to go with them in order to better understand myself but…that would mean I would have to become an Exorcist and I don't know if that's what I want to do or not."

He stared the weatherworn stone, yearning for a response filled with guidance. He received none.

Allen pulled his knees closer to his chest and rested his chin on his knees, staring forward solemnly. "Oh Mana…I wish you were here to help me decide…you always knew what to say."

"That he did."

The young teen looked up to see Alina standing beside him. How he had not heard her approaching he did not know, but he looked to her seeking help. "Do you think I should become an Exorcist?" he asked.

Her response was immediate. "Yes."

"Why?"

She sat down beside him, draping an arm across his shoulders and drawing him close. "Because I know it is what you must do. I do not know what it means to be an Exorcist, but I do know that whatever it is you will become a great one. I have faith in you Allen."

Allen took in her words somberly. "I won't ever see you again, will I?" he mumbled softly, loathing the question.

She idly stroked his hair, hoping it would give him some comfort. "Perhaps not. One never knows where destiny shall take them, down a path that cannot easily be perceived, not even in death. But…perhaps it is in death that we shall meet again." She mused, words full of strange wisdom.

"I don't want that to happen," whispered Allen, afraid.

"Death is just another path, one that we all must take," soothed Alina, looking off into the horizon, a gentle breeze buffeting her face with gentle caresses. "Whether it is in this life or the next, we shall meet again. That I am sure of."

"Then I shall make it to where we meet again in this life, and not in death," Allen assured, leaning into the embrace for further comfort. "I'm going to miss you and everyone else."

"And I you," she said thickly, fresh tears coming to her eyes as she drew him closer, wrapping her arms around him tighter.

"Tell Bell that I'm sorry for having to go away and that I will still try to return, someday," said Allen as he pulled away and stood, still bearing a nervous anxiety in his silver eyes.

Alina stood as well. "I believe she already knows this, but I shall make sure she knows all the same." She leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "I wish you all the luck in your journey, Allen."

He nodded, feeling a little better about becoming an Exorcist. He still wasn't fully on board with the idea, but he realized that there was no way of avoiding it. Like that pony-tail wearing guy said, whether he liked it or not, he was going with them and he rather go willingly than through brute force.

Turning to the grave, he said, "Goodbye Mana. I swear I will come visit your grave as much as I can."

Residing with his fate, he bid Alina a final farewell before heading back to the spot where he had fled from the Exorcists, hoping to find them still there. Alina watched him go silently, a lone tear sliding down her cheek as he disappeared from her sight.

"Farewell Allen Walker. May you always keep walking."

* * *

Just as Allen had hoped and predicted, he found the Exorcists sitting before their carriage, Narein sitting a few feet away. Bell was nowhere to be seen, leaving him to assume that she was out looking for him. Good. He didn't think he'd be able to share parting words with her a second time.

Narein was the first to spot him, alerting the Exorcists as he got to his feet. A resilient expression was on his face as he watched Allen come up to them, his decision to join them having remained unchanged even after the trio had thoroughly explained it to him. Allen gave a reluctant smile to his friend as he asked, "You still want to come with me?"

"Yes. Oscar, Isabella, and Anya will understand."

"Then thank you," said Allen before he turned to the trio and added, "Alright, I'm ready."

Lenalee smiled and Lavi nodded while Kanda remained indifferent, becoming the first to enter the carriage that had sat patiently upon the dirt road. Allen waited nervously as Lenalee and Lavi followed, Narein lingering for a moment before he entered as well. For a second, indecision plagued him, but then, a strange sense of acceptance fell over him.

Allen Walker was ready to become an Exorcist.

And so, he stepped into the carriage, about to partake in a journey that had been destined for him since birth.

A journey…that held no clear ending.

* * *

A middle-aged man lay restlessly in his bed, his face drenched in sweat, his body swathed in blankets. He twisted and turned, unhearing of the soft knock that came from a heart-shaped door that served as the entrance to his bedroom. He mumbled incoherent words under his breath, a tormented expression twisting his face.

Left unacknowledged, the door slowly creaked inward, revealing the form of short teenage girl with dark hair, violet eyes, and pale skin. A hint of concern was on her face as she stepped forward, tentatively sitting at the foot of the bed and grasping one of his hands. She sat there for only moments until the man shot up, giving a distressed shout about something in his nightmare.

The girl sat patiently as she waited for the man to calm down, slowly caressing the hand she held with her thumb. Heavy pants filled the air as he began to realize that what he had experienced had been a simple nightmare, a simple yet distressing nightmare. He sluggishly wiped the sleep and sweat away from his eyes, finding himself racked with inexplicable tremors.

"Are you alright, Lord Millennium?" the girl questioned attentively, aware of his distress.

"I-I dreamt of him, Road! I…couldn't escape those eyes, those cruel and hateful eyes!"

"Who did you dream of?" asked the girl warily, dreading the answer with equal amounts of debilitating anger and vehement despair.

He was hesitant to reply, licking his lips anxiously as he struggled to make sense of what he had dreamt. His heart pounded heavily within the confines of his chest, beats of fright soon becoming a tempo of anger. With each passing second his fear eased away into rage, his face contorting to a look of animosity. His teeth gnashed together heatedly and his exhales became heavy and loud.

He gripped the girl's hand fiercely, his golden eyes staring at her yet through her at the same time. She kept her own gaze as impassive as possible, but knew that she'd be unable to keep such neutrality forever.

A light growl rumbled in his throat as his lips curled, viciously snapping with all the disgust in world, "The 14th!"

* * *

_Author's Note: Thank you all who reviewed last chapter! It made me really happy reading all of your comments. I'd like to give a big thanks to XxXEnvyxXx for giving me the idea of having Narein join Allen. I have a few things in mind for the character, but nothing too major, just something that will help Allen grow and develop._

_But…I do have a bit of bad news. The story will be on an itsy bitsy hiatus from now until my winter break. I know it may not feel like much with the way I update, but I just wanted to have you all know that that is when the next chapter will be coming. I don't have the luxury of free time as I use to, so writing has become limited to mostly the weekends. It upsets me that I don't have more time, but I do have a life outside of writing fanfics so I must put more focus on that. _

_I will try to make more updates during my winter break, and/or really long chapters sort of like this._

_P.S: I'm so mad I didn't have the chapter finished by Halloween! That had been my goal!_


	25. The Black Order

Ch. 24

'_Whatever you do_

_I'll do it too_

_Show me everything and tell me how_

_It all means something and yet nothing to me_

_I can see there's so much to learn_

_It's all so close and yet so far_

_I see myself as people see me_

_Oh I just know there's something bigger out there'_

_Phil Collins: Strangers Like Me_

Allen sat politely in the carriage, keeping to his thoughts as everyone else excluding the sour-faced Kanda, who was aching to be seated next to the driver in the pouring rain rather than to be cooped up in a cramp space filled with amiable teenagers, chatted exuberantly about what it was like at the Black Order. Every so often he'd throw in a comment or two, to show that he was in fact listening but most of the time he was busy staring out the curtain covered window.

It was no secret that he was afraid. The thought of having to fight frightened him, even though he had kept his own a few times before. Three nights ago, during the akuma attack, it had all been off of instinct and the desire for vengeance. He didn't think he'd be able to muster something like that every time he fought.

He had meant to protect his friends and family, but now that they weren't here beside him, what would be the point of fighting?

_Narein…he's the only one I've got left,_ he thought. _I will fight for him._

Maybe someday that sense of resolve would extend to encompass his unofficial comrades, if he ever got around to considering them as family. He doubted he would.

Sighing softly, Allen began absently fiddling with his hair, growing tired of its excessive length. Drawn in a low ponytail, the tail of hair hung at least midway down his back, a length he could not tolerate for much longer. As soon as he had the time, he would just go at it with a pair of scissors and make himself look halfway decent. He looked like a white-haired version of Kanda, who looked an awful lot like a girl in his own eyes. And he did not want to look like a girl.

Unbeknownst to Allen, Lenalee watched him thoughtfully, hoping his quiet disposition would change. He looked so miserable sitting beside his talkative friend, absently staring out the side window. It was no wonder why he detested becoming an Exorcist and not much of a surprise either. Most of the Exorcists she knew had loathed leaving behind their lives to fulfill a calling they never rightfully asked for. But eventually they got over it and accepted their roles as apostles.

Though she wished he would accept it as well, she was one to talk when she herself still despised the role she was supposed to play.

She wanted to say something, but didn't know what. He'd hardly take her words of comfort from the entire length of the journey, and it didn't seem like he'd be taking any anytime soon. Hefting a sigh, the entire carriage shook as it came to stop, alerting all its occupants that they had finally arrived to their destination.

Kanda immediately exited the vehicle, trudging out into the pouring rain without a second thought. The others, on the other hand, were hesitant to step out, unwilling to get soaked. Lavi was the next to exit, tentatively encouraging the others to follow as he clumsily made his way out of the carriage. Lenalee soon followed, and then Narein as well, who stopped halfway upon noticing that his friend wasn't following.

He turned to Allen, a gentle look on his face. "Allen…it's alright. I'm right here."

"I know," he whispered, reluctantly rising to his feet. The look in eyes showed the epitome of his fear, silver iris clouded by it. If Narein looked closely, he could see that Allen was shaking.

"Are you really that afraid?" questioned Narein carefully, worried about his friend's wellbeing.

"Yes!" snapped Allen. "Dear God yes I'm afraid! Afraid of becoming something I'm not, afraid of failing because I wasn't good enough, afraid of not being able to protect you! I don't know what I'd do if I were to suddenly lose you too. You're all I have left, Narein. And I pray to God that I'm strong enough to protect you."

Narein visibly softened, fairly touched by the impassioned words from his best friend. Stepping up to him, the young Indian teen hovered over his troubled friend, not sure what comfort he could provide. All he could do was rest his hand on his bare shoulder and say, "I believe in you, Allen. I know you'll be the best Exorcist this Organization has ever known."

Allen gave a wan smile. "Do you even know what being an Exorcist means?"

"Well…no."

"Then don't say things you don't understand…"

The sharp tug at the hem of his vest sent him pitching forward, the sense of weightlessness hitting him as his feet began skimming the ground. He became painfully aware of how much bigger and stronger Narein was compared to him.

An unpleasant glint of anger flickered in his brown eyes. "Don't start belittling me just because you didn't want me to come. In time I will understand what it means, and I will still stand by with what I said no matter how heinous it may actually be." He set Allen down, turning sharply on his heel to exit the carriage. "Come on," he threw over his shoulder. "We can't expect them to wait forever."

Allen stood there awkwardly, feeling a little ashamed for upsetting his childhood friend. Narein's intentions had been true and filled with honesty, but Allen still stood by his opinion about his friend tagging along.

Trudging along behind him solemnly, the white-haired teen kept a soured face as he lugged his meager suitcase out into the pouring rain. His frown deepened as he quickly got soaked, his eyes straining against the rain as he struggled to follow Narein and keep up.

He slipped and stumbled upon the craggy ground, stubbing his toe once when he had failed to spot a jutting rock in time. All and all, he was completely miserable by the time they made it to a cavern, forcing himself to drag his feet forward through power of will. No one else seemed that affected by the rain; then again he didn't have an affinity towards it in the first place.

"Alright!" chirped Lavi as he clapped his hands together and turned to the group, "Who's going with whom?" He turned to Kanda specifically as he added, "Dibbs on going with Yu-chan!"

"Like hell I'd go with you." Kanda muttered.

"Excuse me?" Narein responded hesitantly. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

"The base of our Headquarters rests on top of a mountain and in order to reach it we use the underground canal that runs up to the building. Otherwise we'd have to climb and I don't think any of us want to do that when it's raining cats and dogs outside." Lenalee explained, gesturing to the pair of gondolas resting in the body of water just feet away. A man in a tan coat stood dutifully nearby, a lantern in hand. "We all can't fit in one boat, so we'll have to split up and go separately."

"Oh…" Narein nodded, understanding better now. "Well, one boat has to have two and the other three. So…I guess you three can go on one and then Allen and I can go on the other."

"Sounds fair enough," Lenalee smiled before turning to the two males dressed in black. A scolding look withered her features as she pointed an accusing finger at them. "You two better not tip the boat like last time!"

"Yes, Lenalee," Lavi mumbled, Kanda giving an eye roll as his response.

This seemed to be satisfactory, for Lenalee took a hold of their arms and proceeded to drag them along behind her. As she stepped into the narrow boat she added, "Toma, can you follow behind us with Allen and Narein?"

"It would be my pleasure, Lady Exorcist."

Lenalee gave a generous smile before taking the long oar and pushing off the stone embankment with her heel. Allen and Narein followed Toma into the second gondola as the group of Exorcists paddled down into the dimly lit canal.

The youngest male peered into the murky water with a somber frown, wondering if gaining information about his condition was really worth becoming one of _them._ It wasn't that he totally hated the idea, but rather he was afraid of it. All he could think of was sorrow and torment whenever he heard the word 'Exorcist'. And he knew it was because of his experience of turning Mana into an akuma.

The boat ride was long and uneventful. Allen idly listened to Narein chat with the man in the tan coat—Toma was it?—not really paying attention to anything until the boat met the side of a concrete bank just behind the other Lenalee and her friends had occupied. The trio in black stood illuminated under lamp lit posts, their varying faces shadowed with enticing mystery, waiting.

Allen tried not to notice the ominous feeling that hung in the air as he was helped out of the boat.

Bidding farewell to Toma, the group of five headed up a seemingly never ending stone stairwell lit by the periodic flame torch. Each step upward filled Allen with impeccable dread, his fleshy palm growing clammy from nerves. He was starting to regret his decision of leaving the predictability the circus had for him a little too late when suddenly they emerged out into the open, faced with an impressive sight.

They stood inside a large, very expansive room where the ceiling appeared to be, well, higher than the human eye could see. All around he could see that each level held a certain amount of rooms, people walking nonchalant no matter what floor they appeared to be on, undaunted by the height. Stone was the obvious material used, cut and shaped in a way that made the large tower oddly beautiful in its own strange way.

Pillars supported the walls perfectly on the ground floor, creating a tier-like effect on the upper levels. The place was strangely lit by a combination of gas lamps and electricity—something Allen or Narein thought they'd never see firsthand anytime soon. Tapestries of varying religious scenes and the Rose Cross the Exorcists bore on their breast over their heart lined the walls, giving the atmosphere a sort of refined feeling despite the fact that the place was in fact a military type organization. People were everywhere it seemed.

Allen looked at it all in wonder, his mouth gaping slightly as he surveyed the area. Lenalee and Lavi noticed his wonderment and both shared a smile.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but I promise I'll give you the full tour once Komui is finished inspecting your innocence and answering any questions that you may have," Lenalee assured before she turned to Kanda, gave him a nod that sent him on his way. She then turned to Lavi and said, "Would you show Narein to the Head of the Finder Department to have him fitted and explained what he is to do as a Finder?"

"Sure thing, but," Lavi stammered as he leaned in close and began whispering something into her ear, something that made them both look at Allen in a questionable manner.

"I won't forget," she murmured under her breath before bidding Lavi and Narein farewell and turning to Allen. Her smile dampened a moment at the way Allen was watching Narein go; an uncertain and almost vulnerable look was in his eyes. He looked like a lost child now that his companion was gone.

Lenalee stepped forward, taking his left hand into her own. This grabbed his attention, sending his eyes onto hers as he inhaled a sharp breath. She began stroking the back of his hand gently with her thumb, hoping it would relax him. "Don't worry. You'll see Narein again before you know it," she calmly spoke.

Allen bit his bottom lip, uncertain if he could believe her. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she said, "Now come on, I'll show you to Komui's Office."

She soon began leading the way, never once letting go of his hand.

* * *

Allen followed wherever Lenalee was taking them without question, occasionally looking away from the back of her head to look at the people they passed. He never saw any more people bearing black coats, but he did see quite a few people in tan ones or in lab coats. Some looked at him with friendly faces while others chose to either ignore him or look away. Some even went as far as talking about him behind his back, predominantly speaking about his white hair. It made him even more self-conscious about it.

The pair soon came onto a man in a lab coat with spikey blond hair idly sipping at a can of soda pop through a straw as he surveyed some data. He soon looked up upon noticing them approach, a sloppy grin coming to his face. "Lenalee!" he said amicably, "Welcome home!"

"Thank you, Reever," she said back.

Reever looked to his left at Allen, a curious look coming to his tired eyes. "Is this the new recruit Komui sent you, Lavi, and Kanda to find?" he inquired.

"He'd be the one."

Reever gave Allen a grin as well, offering his free hand. "Reever Wenham, Section Leader of the Science Division." He gripped Allen's hand firmly in a handshake.

"Allen Walker," he responded politely. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

"You can just call me Reever, Allen, and with none of this 'sir' business either."

"I'll try…"

"Good," Reever lowered his hand to his side and gave a slow sigh. "So…you're probably wondering if your brother is awake, right Lenalee."

She nodded, earning another sigh from the Scientist.

"Follow me, I'll go wake him." Reever murmured miserably, leaving Allen to wonder why as he pulled along by Lenalee.

* * *

A polite knock came to the Chief's door, one he did not hear. Instead of rousing him from his sleep, it elicited a snore, followed by a few mumblings pertaining to Lenalee as he buried his head deeper into his folded arms. As if not expecting a reply, the door opened anyways, revealing the form of an exhausted Reever, a sighing Lenalee, and a curious Allen.

"You might want to stay here," Reever instructed Allen. "It gets pretty ugly when you wake the Chief from one of his naps."

Allen watched with wide eyes as the Section Leader stepped into the dark office and approached the Chief. At first, he merely shook him on the shoulder, murmuring his title in vain hopes of waking him up. When it became clear that it wasn't going to work, Reever sighed and Lenalee frowned as he bent down to the sleeping man's ear and whispered these words: "Lenalee's getting married today."

This worked like a charm.

"WHAT? HOW COULD LENALEE DO THIS TO HER POOR, OLD BROTHER?" Komui wailed, tears coming to his eyes and streaming down his face in an unflattering manner.

"Brother…"

"WHERE IS SHE? I MUST STOP HER FROM MARRYING THAT…THAT MAN!"

"What man? I'm not even seeing anyone…" Lenalee groaned, finally grabbing her brother's attention.

Komui shot out of his chair and went to his sister, falling to his knees and ensnaring her into his death grip—I mean hug. "OH LENALEE, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? YOU CAN'T GO MARRY HIM!"

This was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Frustrated and embarrassed by her brother's antics, Lenalee drew back a foot and expertly kicked him on the back of his head, sending him rolling away from her. Lenalee firmly stood her ground as she glared at her brother, stance rigid and body tense, her hands clenched at her sides. This was the first time Allen had ever seen Lenalee NOT look happy and effervescent. Now she looked just plain mad and that in itself was scary and he couldn't help wondering just what he got himself into.

Somewhere Reever turned a light on as he exited the room and pushed Allen in, sending him sprawling upon a horde of paper that buried the floor from sight. He looked up to see the once crazed man seemingly back to normal—if such a thing were possible—rubbing the back of his head which held a sizable bump.

He seemed unbothered by it though and when his eyes met Allen's, a kind smile beamed on his face. "You must be the apostle General Cross informed me about, correct?"

"Uh…sure," Allen replied as he got to his feet, helping the man up onto his. As Lenalee's brother dusted himself off and moved back to his desk, Allen took a nervous seat on the couch. He watched Lenalee approach her brother to whisper something in his ear before turning on her heel to follow Reever out. The sound of the door closing told him that he was now alone with the man and he didn't know whether that was good or bad.

Sinking into his chair, the man took a sip from his absurd pink bunny mug before sighing and propping his elbows on the desk. He stared at Allen intently, still bearing a smile. "Why don't we start with introductions? My name is Komui Lee and I'm Chief of both the European Branch and the Black Order itself. If you aren't already aware, my sister is Lenalee Lee, one of the handful of Exorcists the Order currently has on active duty." He leaned forward then and inquired, "But that's enough about me, I'm more interested to hear about you. What's your name?"

Allen stared at Komui, silent for a moment until he replied, "Allen. Allen Walker."

"Allen Walker…" Komui repeated. "Well Allen, mind telling me how a kid like you grabbed the interest of a man like General Cross?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking, sir."

"Cross was usually a man who kept to himself, and as of late he has, well, to put this mildly, dropped off the grid. He hasn't contacted the Order in years and frankly we had assumed he was dead. The fact that he called in to inform us about your presence is honestly astounding. One would think the man would simply find much more…illusive means of presenting us accommodators; he's done so in the past. Why change his ways for you?"

"I don't know why you're implying I know anything about him because I assure you, I've only met that man once and that was when he saved my life. I don't know why he changed his methods just for me."

"Fair enough," Komui relented with a shrug. "I didn't think it would hurt to ask. I hope you didn't mind that I had. Now then, tell me a bit about yourself, Allen."

So Allen reluctantly began sharing tidbits of his life story, only willing to reveal that he had been part of circus during his childhood until one day he had gotten lost and was soon taken in by a freak-show who weren't at all the greatest company, keeping him locked away for years. As proof he shrugged off his vest and showed his back to Komui, earning a few sympathetic sounds that he promptly ignored.

The Chief was honestly surprised to see such amount of damage to a person's body, especially a fledgling Exorcist's. The fact that he seemed unbothered by the dirty bandages that still covered his body was remarkable.

Once the vest was back on he continued on by saying that a few weeks ago he had managed to get free and when things hadn't looked good, Cross had stepped in and saved him. He managed to return to the very same circus troupe a few days later through nothing short of a miracle.

He chose to exclude any mention of Mana. The subject of his father was just too personal to be shared with someone he hardly knew.

"Sounds like you had quite the life, Allen. Filled with lots of joy and just as many hardships. I know what that's like." Komui commented.

"You can say that again…" mumbled Allen, looking at his lap thoughtfully. His eyes fell onto his lax left hand and immediately his desire for answers returned to the forefront of his mind. Looking back up sharply, he unexpectedly asked, "What am I?"

Komui's brow rose to his hairline. "Pardon?"

"I mean…why is my left arm like this, why am I different from the average person? What am I?"

"I will explain more about your arm after we have thoroughly examined it. You see certain people are compatible to a substance we've come to call Innocence. It's the material that makes Exorcists able to combat akuma, creatures I'm sure you met from what Lenalee's told me," explained Komui, noting the fidgety movements Allen was making after hearing this. "I see you're anxious for the examination. If that is so, then please, follow me."

His words sent Allen jumping to his feet, his eyes following Komui before his feet did, keeping a short distance between them as he was led out of the messy office and down a corridor to the left. They soon descended a flight of stairs that showed off a view of where the scientist assumingly worked, large electronically powered structures cluttering up the colossal sized room. At the bottom of the stairs they continued on a few feet before turning another left into an examination room. The sight of the sterile interior and foreign sharp objects made Allen's skin crawl.

"Can you show me your arm?" Komui asked as he brought over a barstool to the examination table, placing it down before taking a seat. He noticed the hesitance and offered another patient smile. "I noticed the lack of mobility you have with it. I just want to see how much sensitivity you have. I promise I won't hurt you."

Wearily Allen stepped forward, laying his left arm out at forward onto the steel table. Both males stared at the limp limb with varying gazes: Allen's filled with shame while Komui's is filled wonderment. Tentatively he ran his fingers along the thick scales, twisting his joints experimentally and occasionally throwing a question along with it. It soon became clear that he had little feeling in the entirety of his arm and he could just barely flex his fingers, but that was all he could do.

"It would appear the muscles are very stiff and very weak. I can only assume that is due to lack of exercise and proper rehabilitation after being chained in a cage for those many years. If that's the case then I'm sure that a few months of training will get it in shape so that it functions just as well as your human arm," Komui theorized, examining the cross-shaped jade gemstone embedded into the skin, "Do you think you can invoke it?"

Allen knew he probably couldn't but tried anyway. After a minute of concentration he gave up and admitted to Komui that he couldn't.

"How many times have you actually been able to activate it into an invocation?"

"…Only twice." Allen whispered, looking away. He chose to keep all those times McQueen had forced it to transform to himself.

"And how long have you possessed Innocence in your left arm?"

"My entire life."

Komui openly gawked. "You mean…you mean you were actually _born_ with a fragment of Innocence?"

Allen bristled at the incredulous tone that came from Komui's words. "Yeah. Why? Is that bad?"

"I would think not. It's just…normally accommodators are discovered when Innocence has first bonded with that person and it's usually less refined, far more deform when it comes into being for a parasite-type. You, on the other hand, have a much more organic appearance to your Innocence bearing arm, minus of course the obvious details that are unnatural."

"So…you mean to say I'm different?"

"Every one of the Exorcists is different. But yes, in the typical standard you are different. The fact that you're a parasite-type makes it all the bit remarkable."

"A parasite-type? What does that mean?"

"There are two known types of anti-akuma weapons: Equipment and Parasitic. Equipment-types are the most common and are forged into the form of objects that can be used as weapons against akuma. But because there is no direct contact between the Innocence and its host, it gives the accommodator's less control than a parasite-type. Parasite-types are accommodators who are able to morph their body into weapons. It is the rarest out of the two and there is more control. But unfortunately the life span of its host is typically shorter due to the toll the Innocence has on the body."

Allen processed his words, staring intently at his arm. _A shorter life…I hope it'll be enough to do whatever Mana says I have to do, _he thought. Slowly he curled his fingers into a tight fist, gnashing his teeth together heatedly. This all was just happening too fast for him to deal with, becoming too real. He felt lightheaded and dizzy because of it, and if it weren't for Komui's steading hand he would've fallen to his knees.

"Now, now. It may have its downsides, but there are benefits as well. They are the chosen one's to wield the Innocence's power to its full capacity. Don't let its downsides discourage you."

"Alright," Allen meekly mumbled. "But I have another question. What is Innocence exactly?"

"Glad you asked," Komui replied with a cunning smile. "We have just one more stop before I take you to have your uniform designed and fitted."

He sharply turned and exited the examining room. Allen stood there baffled by the fact that the man hadn't answered his question. Jogging after him, he soon found him standing upon a platform near a control panel, beckoning for Allen to join him. Once he stepped onto its metallic surface, the thing hummed to life and began descending down into dark corridors below. Allen gripped the guardrail anxiously, nervously glancing down at the swallowing darkness that soon surrounded them.

Momentarily mesmerized by the contraption, he soon turned to Komui and repeated his question, "What's Innocence?" The platform careened to a sudden spot and eruption of spotlights illuminated a wall of darkness in front of them, revealing the forms of five cloaked figures sitting upon throne-like chairs.

"The Innocence of God. The power of the Almighty." One of them said. "Yet another…we have managed to grasp God…"

Allen didn't know what the person meant, but the words alone sent chills down his back. He couldn't help remembering what the stranger from his dream had said to him: that he was God's most cherished child. Perhaps that out all those who possessed Innocence, he was whatever it meant to be God's most cherished? It was just a theory but something about made sense to Allen.

Turning to Komui he asked, "Who…?"

"Those are our bosses. The Great Generals." Komui glanced at Allen with yet another cunning smile. "Now, prove your worth to them."

"What?"

Suddenly and unexpectedly, several pairs of ethereal limbs emerged from the darkness and took a hold of Allen, lifting him off his feet. A strangled gasp was the only thing he could get past his lips, the actual cry stuck in his throat. Higher and higher he was lifted up, brought up to the face of a creature whose appearance was vaguely human with the exception that it was missing a pair of eyes. Tendrils wrapped around Allen's left arm and extended it out to its full length.

"What the…?" Allen gasped as he stared at the thing.

"In…In…Inno…Innocence…" it slowly said.

It began probing his hand, sinking into the red skin without difficulty, leaving behind no trace of entrance. The tendrils explored his entire insides, shooting up his neck in veiny lacerations that concentrated on the left side of his face. The sensation wasn't painful but it felt extremely uncomfortable, to the point where he was desperately attempting to activate his left arm. Soon the tendrils wrapped around the entirety of his hand, doubling his actions of struggle.

Noticing his actions, Komui called up, "I wouldn't recommend trying to activate your Innocence. You'll only be putting more harm onto yourself."

"Komui!" Allen shouted.

"Your arm is magnificent, Allen," he placated with a smile. "What do you think, Hevlaska? How do you like this soldier of life?"

Unaffected by his words, Allen continued at his attempts. By now he could feel the tendrils crawling just beneath his skin, causing him to grimace in disgust. _What is it doing? It feels like probing the inside of my body_, he thought before he glared at his arm. _Move! I don't care what Komui thinks will happen, just move!_

Growling in frustration he finally screamed, "Damn it…MOVE!"

On command his arm transformed and he immediately regretted it. His arm appeared usual, but for some reason it brought him incredible pain. It reminded him of his days back in McQueen's sideshow where the pain of his arm's transformation nearly drove him insane. His chest tightened, a scream of pain ripping past his throat. Hevlaska looked down with concern.

"Don't force…an invocation…when your body isn't ready," Hevlaska soothed as she withdrew her tendrils from within his body and arm. A Rose Cross then appeared upon her forehead. "Calm down…I am not an enemy…"

She bent forward and kissed his hand, easing away the pain. Then she rested her forehead against his and instantly his body began to relax. "It's extremely dangerous…if the anti-akuma weapon and the accommodator…aren't properly synchronized when the invocation happens," she explained. "2%...8%...10%...11%!"

She pulled away after that, leaving Allen feeling refresh and revitalized. He looked at his hand in amazement and wonderment.

"You should be fine now…seems like your current maximum synchronization rate with your weapon is 11%...a dangerous number to have…"

Allen finally looked up at her without fear as he asked, "Synchronization rate…?"

"It's the numerical value that reflects your ability to invoke your anti-akuma weapon…The lower the synchronization rate, the more difficult it is to do an invocation, and the accommodator is placed in danger…as you now know." She carefully lowered him onto the platform, drawing her ethereal limbs back slowly as he steadied himself. "It wasn't my intention to scare you…I only wanted to…touch your Innocence and learn about it…"

"You wanted to learn…about my Innocence?"

"Allen Walker…" she said with her voice taking on an echoing tone. The fact that she knew his name startled him. "Your Innocence will someday create a great 'Destroyer of Time' in the dark future…That is what I felt…that is my power…"

"A Destroyer?"

A round of claps soon filled the air, grabbing Allen's and Hevlaska's attention. Komui continued clapping as he exclaimed, "That's quite impressive! It must be referring to you! Hevlaska's prophecies are usually dead-on. It looks like we can expect big things from you, Allen."

"Komui…" Allen murmured, frustration bubbling up inside him and causing him to punch out at the man. Unfortunately for him, Komui shielded himself with a clipboard, blocking the blow.

"Could I just sock you just this one?" he growled, fuming.

"Silly, you already took a shot," Komui joked behind the clipboard. "Sorry, I know how surprised you must've been. I'm sure it was scary. I understand. New Exorcists of the Order have to get their Innocence inspected by Hevlaska. It's a rule."

"Why couldn't you tell me these things beforehand?" he yelled accusatively. "Now for the last time, what is exactly is Innocence?"

"Fine, I believe you're ready to hear the proper explanation," said Komui as he stood up and adjusted his glasses. "As you may have guessed, the Innocence plays a significant role for Exorcists who go off to battle. The only ones who know the truth are the Black Order, the New World Alliance…and the Millennium Earl."

For some reason the name stirred something with him, a mixture of anger, sorrow, fear, and regret. He didn't know why he felt those things but he had a feeling that whoever the Millennium Earl was…he was the enemy.

"It all started several hundred years ago after a cube was discovered. Inside was a prophecy from an ancient civilization and instructions on the usage of a certain material."

"A certain material?"

"The cube itself was made from it as well. It's a material known as the 'Crystal of God' and it possesses mysterious powers. We call it 'Innocence'. It's the cross embedded in your left hand. An Innocence that has been processed and converted into a weapon is called an 'anti-akuma weapon'.

"The creator of the cube says they defeated the Millennium Earl, who appeared with his demons, using the Innocence. But in the end, the world was destroyed. It happened approximately seven thousand years ago. We know it as the Great Flood from the Old Testament. However, the cube chronicles it as 'The Three Days of Darkness'.

"Also according to prophecy from the cube, the world will come to an end once more, this time at the hands of the Earl. In fact, the Earl has returned to this world as stated in the prophecy. With this turn of events, the New World Alliance decided to obey the message from the cube: To resurrect the Innocence and establish the Black Order.

"Accommodators were once referred to as the Soldiers of Life but by today's standards they have come to be known as Exorcists, such as yourself. However, the Earl had not forgotten the past and also created an army to destroy God. They are known as akuma.

"If Innocence is white, there is black. It is the 'dark matter' used to create akuma. The more the akuma evolves, the more the dark matter matures and becomes powerful. The Earl is plotting to destroy the innocence and thus avoid its resurrection. For you see, the Innocence were washed away during the Great Flood and have been dispersed throughout the world!

"There's a total of 109 Innocence. We must retrieve the Innocence scattered throughout the world to gather enough strength to destroy the Earl. The Earl is also searching for Innocence in order to destroy it. This is a race to find the Innocence. The moment we lose the crusade, the prophecy of 'The End' will be fulfilled."

"You must fight." One of the Great Generals proclaimed gravely. "That is your fate as one chosen by the Innocence. It is your fate…"

_My fate…if Innocence is white and dark matter is black, and I'm supposed to be grey…what does that make me? Just what have I gotten myself into?_ Allen thought silently, starting to vaguely understand what role he was needed to play.

"So there you have it. That's it for the long explanation," Komui sighed, offering his hand out to Allen. He gave a wink as he added, "Let's both do our best for the world. Even though we won't make a penny off it."

Allen couldn't help but smile softly as he slowly gave his hand over for a handshake. "…yes."

Komui smiled fondly at the boy. "Welcome to the Black Order, Allen. With you joining the Order, we now have a total of 19 Exorcists. They're all scattered about the world on different missions, but you'll meet them soon enough. You've already met Lenalee, Lavi, and Kanda. Oh, by the way, Hevlaska is also an Exorcist."

"What?" Allen uttered in shock.

"I'm…a different type than you and the others…I've been with the Order since it was established…as the accommodator for the cube…I am the guardian of the cube," she explained, the platform slowly beginning to rise as Komui stood at the control panel. "I have met many Exorcists…none of them seemingly as powerful…as what you will become. Allen…may the Lord's divine protection…be with you…"

A sense of foreboding filled him as the ascended out of view of Hevlaska and the Great Generals. Her words frightened him. He didn't know what she meant and honestly he didn't want to know. He had an eerie feeling behind the meaning of her words…

The platform came to a stop a moment later, bringing them back to the same room that they had originally been in on before meeting Hevlaska and the Great Generals. Lenalee stood there expectantly, a bright smile on her face as she waited patiently for their return.

"How'd it go?" she asked as they approached her.

"Fine, if your brother had told me beforehand what was going to happen down there that is," Allen replied, giving Komui a sour look.

"Don't mind him, he's just upset he was left in the dark, no pun intended," Komui shrugged off. "Why don't you take him to see Johnny about his uniform and maybe show him around."

"Sure thing, Brother," she said before she turn to Allen and beckoned him to follow her once again.

Komui watched them go with a smile on his face until they were too far away for him to see. Instantly his smile disappeared, a serious glint coming to his eyes as he made it back to his office, contemplating the enigmatic nature that was Allen Walker. He pondered further Hevlaska's prophecy about Allen being the Destroyer of Time, unable to properly interpret its meaning.

It was apparent though that the kid was special, different maybe, and perhaps Cross had sensed this. Or maybe there was something more to it, something that maybe only Cross knew. It seemed as though Allen was telling the truth when he said he didn't know why Cross had alerted them of his presence the way he had but then again, one could never be too sure. Only through finding Cross would some of his questions be answered.

Upon making back to his office, he was greeted with the presence of a short, old man with dark splotches of makeup over his eyes, making his appearance very much akin to a panda. Lavi stood discreetly against one of the many bookshelves occupying the room, arms crossed and head lowered. Those his eye was closed, he was very much aware of what was going on around him, silently recording the upcoming discussion meant to be held.

"What did Hevlaska have to say about the cursed boy?" the stout man asked as he took a seat on the velvet couch, staring intently at Komui as he took a seat at his desk.

"So you believe his eye to be because of a curse as well," Komui remarked offhandedly, leaning forward on his elbows. "Anyway, she's prophesized him to be a Destroyer of Time. Care to share any insight you have on the matter?"

The man's eyes narrowed slowly, staring deeply at Komui. Finally he stated, "I will have to look into it further before I make a worthy assumption."

"Fine, but I'd like to hear everything you learn on the subject…as well as whatever you can dig up about Allen Walker."

Lavi looked up at this, discreetly looking over at his mentor and noticing a strange flash come to his old eyes at the mention of the name. His brow knitted slightly; the Old Panda knew something that he didn't. He'd have to confront him about on a later date.

"Very well," the man nodded, accepting the task. "Shall I leave the pup to your disposal?"

"Yes," Komui chuckled as he turned to Lavi. "I want you to go see if you can track General Cross for me. It wouldn't hurt to know just where that man chooses to spend his time. Report back here in a month with whatever findings you may have."

"Sure thing, Chief," said Lavi as he pushed off the bookshelf and stood by his mentor. Both bade Komui farewell before leaving the man's office. On the way out Lavi shot a look at his teacher, a look that said: _what do you know._

The old man shot back a withering glance that screamed without words that Lavi needed to hold his tongue. And so Lavi did, knowing that he would only pester him about it again in the months to come. He wasn't about to let this matter drop oh so easily yet.

* * *

After having had his body measured for his coat along with requesting for a hood and pair of gloves to come with it, been given a grand tour that took about an hour, taken a much needed bath in the bathhouse housed outside near the springs, and made it back to his room clothed in his only spare clothes, it was safe to say that Allen was exhausted.

So much had happened all in one day that Allen could hardly seem to care that he was starving. Ignoring his protesting stomach, he rubbed at his face wearily, giving a large yawn. Smacking his lips lazily, he finally took in the entirety of his room. It was small, with only a bed and a desk occupying the space, but it was enough for him. A dark painting of a demented clown being led on a chain carrying a coffin hung on the wall space beside his bed.

Coming up to it, he skimmed his fingers across the surface as Timcanpy came in through the open window, landing perfectly onto his shoulder. The golem nestled against the collar of his shirt affectionately; Allen in turn gave it a scratch on one of its wings with his index finger.

"I guess this is the starting point, Mana," Allen remarked aloud. "Don't stop, always keep walking. That's what you always use to say."

He returned his hand to the painting, pressing his palm against the smooth surface.

"I swear…I won't stop no matter what. I'll keep on walking as long as I live."

* * *

_Author's Note: Sorry this took so long but I'm glad I'm able to post sooner than I thought I would. Laptop recently got replaced when my old one got stolen so I was able to finish the chapter. A portion of the dialogue came from the manga, so parts of it that's familiar doesn't belong to me._

_Hope you had a Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it! Please Review._


	26. On the Road

Ch. 25

'_Pain flows from the wounds of my broken heart in the dark_

_The feelings connect to a moment that we were together dissolve_

_Having a nightmare with an unawaken passion,_

_I can't hear the voice that comes at the end'_

_-Abingdon Boys School: Innocent Sorrow (English translation)_

Within his small room, Allen twisted and turned in his sleep, moaning ever so softly as he swatted at the air. His face was pale and covered in sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. "Father…" he mumbled, face scrunching up distastefully as he rolled onto his side. He clenched at the bed fabric, trembling lightly. He rolled onto his back; his brow furrowed and his mouth set into a frown.

"No," he muttered under his breath. Suddenly he bolted up straight, eyes wide as he screamed again, "NO!"

Ragged pants answered his cry as Allen sat in his bed, trembling from the after effects of his nightmare. Struggling to calm himself, he shakily rose from bed and began pacing the room, hoping it would calm him down. It didn't at first, but after the monotonous nature began to set in, it began easing away some of his discomfort. Eventually Timcanpy glided over to rest on his shoulder, its presence further soothing him.

"What a nightmare," breathed Allen as he petted the golden golem. "Haven't had one of those in a while…"

Timcanpy suddenly fluttered away from his shoulder and onto a full-body mirror he hadn't realized was there. It sat there, unmoving. Curious by the golem's seemingly strange behavior, he came over, gazing up at it. "Something wrong, Tim?" he asked it, offering his finger for it to perch on. It remained rooted on its spot, staring intently at Allen.

Lowering his hand with a sigh of defeat, he glanced at the mirror and at first, wasn't troubled by what he saw. But then he saw the reflection shimmer and inexplicably began to move on its own. A sinister look came to his reflection's face, a very provocative grin dimpling the corners of his mouth. Shadows swarmed all around his copy, wrapping its body in wispy tendrils. The shadows darkened it's features, brightening it's eyes until they were a blinding golden color that glowed amidst the darkness.

Then, as if all this wasn't enough of a shocker, the image began moving forward, stepping out of the realm of the mirror straight towards him!

His demented reflection made real stretched out its right arm towards him, the limb stretching further than it was natural. Allen gaped as he shuffled back, tripping over his own feet and falling down on his rear. His eyes were wide with disbelief, the arm still coming towards him, intending to grip him by the throat. A scream was in the process of ripping past his throat as the hand came within inches of his vulnerable neck when someone called out his name.

"Allen? You awake?"

The call made his eyes creak open, rays of light streaming through the small window, momentarily blinding him. A groggy groan tumbled past his lips as he rubbed at his eyes, finding himself not at all well rested as he thought he'd be after sleeping in a proper bed for once. He sat up, moving his hand up from his eyes to his hair, brushing back the loose ends and combing out the tangles. His hair tie rested on the floor, probably brought there from restlessly turning in his sleep.

A knock drilled to his door snapped his attention to awareness.

Swiftly tying his hair back with his limited dexterity, Allen got to his feet and greeted Lenalee at the door. She smiled back at him with that smile that can only be described as being hers. "There you are," she said sweetly, "I was beginning to think you had already left."

"What are you, some kind of wakeup call?" he grounded out, rubbing at his eyes again.

She noted the annoyance in his words and instantly her smile dampened. But instead of pitying him like all the other occasions, she allowed herself to feel a flicker of anger. "No," she said with a less than sympathetic voice. "But I figured you might have forgotten where the cafeteria was, so I thought that the nice thing to do was to see if you needed some help getting there."

She turned on her heel and began walking away, making Allen feeling guilty for using such a tone with her, especially when they hardly knew each other. It wasn't proper to be impolite with a woman, and his father had once told him that a wise man never incurs the wraith of any woman if he wishes to live, so Allen knew he had to amend the situation, fast.

Retrieving his boots, he hopped into them awkwardly as he made his way over to her, shouting, "Wait! I'm sorry." His words proved to be the perfect charm for she did as he asked, turning back to face him.

An apologetic look came to his face as he said, "You're right, I did forget. Do you mind showing me again?"

One of her thin eyebrows arched as a suggestive smile came to her face. She folded her arms, looking away from him. "Jeez, I don't know," she sighed dramatically. "You seem like you're completely capable of finding your own way there…"

"Please don't make me beg…" he murmured miserably, hanging his head in defeat.

"Relax, I was just kidding," she teased, giving his shoulder a playful shove. She giggled, the sound garnering a small smile from him. He rubbed the pain from his shoulder, watching her as she began walking away again, throwing over her shoulder, "Come on, I'll show you where it is again."

Allen followed, about to find himself in a place as comparable to heaven in his eyes.

* * *

The cafeteria felt much larger than the first time he saw it. Maybe it was because the first had been a momentary glance. Maybe it was because the place was populated with a colorful amount of people dining on various dishes that picked at his interest. Whatever the case may be, Allen felt like an insignificant ant inside the room, not sure what he had to do. He turned to Lenalee to ask, but found her gone from his side.

His heart began to speed up with panic as he searched for her, finding his search to be a loss cause. Amidst his search, however, he spotted a person standing in front of counter, receiving food. Pushed by the sound of his stomach roaring in hunger, he stepped up to the man behind the counter and found his attitude to be just as vivacious as his appearance.

He wore sunglasses in spite of the fact that he was indoors and his odd purple hair was neatly braided back. His face brightened up with interest at the sight of Allen sheepishly approaching.

"Oh my!" the man all but gushed. "Are you new? My, oh, my! What a cutie!"

"Yes, uh, my name is Allen, err, sir. Allen Walker. It's a pleasure to meet you," he replied, flustered.

"Well aren't you just the sweetest! I'm Jerry, the Head Chef here at the Order. What can I get you? I'll make you anything you want!"

"Anything…" Allen cupped his chin in thought. "Well, it that case, can you get me chicken, sausage, shepherd's pie, scramble eggs, mash potatoes, bread pudding, dumplings, roast lamb, shrimp, steak cooked rare, five banana nut muffins, and a large piece of treacle tart for dessert. And make that all large portions."

Jerry stared at him with mild bafflement. "You sure you're going to eat all that, sugar?"

"Of course," Allen insisted. "Why wouldn't I?"

His insistence was enough to get Jerry going, eagerly putting himself to the task of completing Allen's immense order. Allen stood there waiting patiently, scanning the crowd of people until he was approached by an individual wearing a tan coat, a hood over their head. As the person came closer towards him, Allen couldn't help but stare nervously, wondering why they were coming up to him.

"I didn't think I'd ever see you again," said the person. "So…how do I look?"

It took a second for Allen to realize who had approached him, and instantly he gave a crooked grin, bringing up his hand to shove the hood down. He relaxed as Narein gave his own cheeky smile.

"Like you're in something a little big for you," replied Allen.

And it was true. The coat was long, nearly touching the ground and the sleeves were rolled back profusely so that they fell to his elbows. His lean form was basically nonexistent underneath the bundle of tan fabric. The hood had overshadowed his face when he had had it up.

"Hey, it was the only size they had that would fit me," he defended. "They were either: way too small or way too big, bigger than this."

"Guess you were out of luck then." Allen grinned, happy to see his friend again but wary of how long it would last.

He wasn't sure what exactly a Finder did, but something told him that whatever it was, it was something that was either important or very disposable if so many were needed. Either way, he had to appreciate the time he had with Narein. Each moment could be their last, he feared.

When Allen's food came, Narein was generous enough to help the poor teen carry his enormous amount of food, in slight disbelief that his friend could eat so much. Then again, Allen had always had an unusual appetite, especially for someone as thin as him.

They sat at the table that Lenalee had chosen to sit at, talking amiably to Lavi, who appeared to be preparing to leave if the knapsack at his feet was any judge of that. While Allen sat without question, Narein hesitated, looking warily amongst the Exorcists.

"Uh," he began nervously. "There isn't some kind of rule I wasn't told about that says Finders can't sit with Exorcists is there?"

"Of course not!" Lavi chirped, gesturing to the space beside Allen. "Sit, we don't bite."

Narein gave a relieved smile as he lowered himself on the bench space next to Allen. "Good. You'd think there were looking at how segregated this place is."

"It's just because Exorcists work more closely with other Exorcists, while Finders typically work more with other Finders. Sure, are duties do cross, but people tend to make friends with those they see more often," Lenalee explained, twirling a fork around her fruit salad, idly poking a slice of orange.

Allen took in what she said as he swallowed the last bit of his steak, soon noticing Lavi staring at him with a strange look in his eye.

"Something wrong?" he asked him.

The strange look that had been in his eye slipped away like a brush to the shoulder, a cheeky grin brightening up his face exponentially. "Nah, just never seen someone eat so much before, is all."

If that was so, then why did he get the feeling that he was lying?

In the end Allen decided it didn't matter much to him what he was trying to cover up, nonchalantly moving onto his dumplings, in the process of stuffing one into his mouth when a shout cut across the entire cafeteria, grabbing everyone's attentions.

"What did you say?" shouted a large Finder as he stood imposingly behind Kanda. "Say what you just said!"

"Hey! Stop it, Bazu!" pleaded another Finder, appearing rather puny as he stood next to his fellow comrade.

Kanda set down his chopsticks meticulously, giving a languid sigh as he leaned onto his left knuckle. "Shut up, will yah. You guys are ruining my appetite by sobbing and having a memorial for the dead behind me while I eat."

Bazu gave a thick sniff, rubbing at his crying eyes as his face grew red with anger and a vein began throbbing on his temple. "Why you…how could you say something like that about our fallen comrades who died while on duty?" he growled angrily. "We, the Finders, risk our lives trying to support you Exorcists…and yet…you're upset about losing your appetite?"

In an unthinkable moment, Bazu struck out with a meaty fist at Kanda, intending to make him eat his words. Foolishly he didn't think Kanda would be able to so easily swerve from the blow, whipping around faster than lightning to seize him by the throat. Bazu choked and gasped as he was hoisted off his feet with bizarre ease, Kanda standing before him with a cold look in his dark eyes.

The entire cafeteria had fallen deadly silent.

"You're 'supporting' us?" he ridiculed with a scoff. "Wishful thinking. _That's all_ you guys can do. You're rejects who didn't get chosen by the Innocence. If you want to survive, then leave. There are tons of replacements for your puny life."

Narein, having heard this, clenched his hands tightly into fists, offended by his words. Allen noticed the way his friend tensed up at Kanda's words, and was about to reassure him when the young Indian teen rose to his feet and began making his way over to where Kanda stood. Allen got to his feet as well, calling for Narein to stop. But he wouldn't.

Reaching Kanda in a matter of a few long strides, Narein made a bold move by shoving the Exorcist away, in turn freeing Bazu from his steely grip. As Kanda recoiled Narein said, "We may not seem all that important to you, but to us we are. I may be new, but from what I've gathered we do everything in our power to assist you, the Exorcists. The least you can do is show a bit of respect."

"It's _you_ who should be showing some respect, newbie," Kanda growled, drawing his hand back to deliver a heated blow that Narein was willing to take if Allen hadn't interceded the altercation.

In one of its rare moments of mobility, Allen's left hand went up and caught Kanda's fist, fingers clenching around his knuckles.

"That's enough," Allen warned firmly, eyes set on Kanda. "I'm sorry to intrude, but that's not the way you talk to someone."

Kanda's mouth was thin-lipped as he gazed at his captured hand and then at Allen himself. "…let go of me, Beansprout."

Allen's nose wrinkled at the nickname. "My name is Allen," he reminded.

"Hah, I'll try to remember that if you're still alive in a month," he sneered. "They drop like flies around here. Just like that guy…"

Involuntary Allen's hand tightened, fuelled into action by his rising anger. "Didn't I just say that's not the way to talk to someone?"

The longer he stared at Allen, the more Kanda began to despise what he saw. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You're going to die before your time kid…I hate guys like you."

"Why, thanks."

Narein, feeling the heat of their vicious glares, gripped Allen's shoulder and pulled him away, having to force him to move along when Allen continuously peered over his shoulder at his comrade. A deep grimace darkened Allen's features as he stared at Kanda one last time before reluctantly sitting down at the table they had been sitting at.

"You shouldn't have intervened, Allen." Narein stated with a look of disappointment on his face.

"What was I supposed to do, just let him hit you like that?" he countered, aware of the fact that Lenalee and Lavi were looking on at them.

Narein refused to answer, giving a sigh as he looked away. Allen didn't know how he should take that, but knew it wasn't good.

"Catch yah later, if I still can," Narein said solemnly, giving a halfhearted wave before taking his exit. Allen watched him go with desperate eyes, wanting to follow but knowing he shouldn't.

Whatever problems that were currently facing Narein was his alone to grapple with.

He won't make that same mistake again.

Sighing forlornly at the absence of his only friend, Allen picked at the remainders of his food, slowly eating it away. Lenalee and Lavi watched him silently until the redhead interjected out of the blue, "Relax, you shouldn't worry yourself about it too much, Beansprout."

"My name's Allen!" he raged, eyes smoldering with unease and anger.

Lenalee promptly thumped the older male upside the head with her palm, bearing a sweet smile as she did so. As he doubled over in pain, she turned to Allen and added, "Lavi's right, Allen. Give him some time before asking about his problems. He'll come around, you'll see."

"Thanks…" Allen mumbled, stuffing a piece of treacle tart into his mouth.

As he chewed, Reever suddenly approached the trio, looking specifically at Allen. "Finish eating in 10 minutes and then come to the command room. Chief says it got something to do with your training."

Allen absently nodded, his thoughts still lingering with his friend.

* * *

Scrawling his name upon a form he needed to sign, Komui kept up a bored expression upon hearing a knock at his door. "Come in," he droned, not bothering to glance up as he added his signature to another form he wasn't planning on reading.

"Reever said you wanted to see me, Komui."

The Chief looked up from his work and gave a smile, his boredom melting away. "I did, it involves your future here at the Order." He gestured to the unoccupied couch. "Please, sit."

Allen did so, waiting patiently as Komui finished up the last of the paperwork. When he was done, he removed his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. It was then that Allen realized how tired the man appeared to be and vaguely he wondered if he had even gotten a wink of sleep.

Sighing as he placed his glasses back on and took on his usual bright countenance he began, "Normally Exorcists aren't given much guidance on how to activate their Innocence or even fight, but they typically have a safe enough synchronization rate in order to do so. You, on the other hand, have too low of a synchronization rate to simply risk sending you out into the field and expect you to come back alive.

"So I have decided to assign you to one of the General's for training. Now, usually Exorcists are assigned to units under a specific General and are meant to be used as assistance if ever needed, or in your case, for training."

"How many Generals are there?"

"Five, but with General Cross's absence we have four, all out in the field. I've decided to send you to General Yeegar in Denmark. He's the oldest out of all the Black Order Generals. However he's a natural soldier who spent most of his career on the frontlines. He's taught two of our Generals as well."

Allen felt uneasy whenever hearing the word 'General' and didn't acquaint good feelings to it. "Uh…could I ask you something?" he nervously said. "This General Yeegar, he isn't some eccentric person like General Cross, is he?"

"Jeez, I'm not sure," Komui pondered thoughtfully. "The one thing I'm sure of is that the General is very particular on manners so you may want to study up on your etiquette."

This reassured him, telling him that whoever this General Yeegar was he was a man with principles and manners, something that Mana had. Maybe the man would turn out to be very much like his deceased father, and if that was so, then things may not be too bad. Or they may just end up being the most difficult, most painful days of his life.

Knowing he couldn't refuse, Allen asked in resignation, "When do I leave?"

"You'll be escorted to the nearby train station this afternoon by a couple of Finders who'll be on a courier mission to deliver a package to the General before reporting to their post a few townships away."

"Why don't you just have me deliver the package?"

"I would…but Lenalee tells me your friends with the young Finder who's joined our ranks and he's about to be deployed to the township in Denmark. I figured you'd very much enjoy his company before you must part ways."

Allen knitted his brow and looked away. "I didn't think you cared that much."

"You may be surprised by how much I do. Ever since I became Chief, I've come to take into account just how much everyone in the Order matters, even to the lowest of Finders. I know everyone's name here, Allen, and don't think I take anyone for granted.

"It's not a surprise to me how much you feared coming here, believe me, and in return for your services I give you this opportunity to be with your childhood friend. I'll even place him in General Yeegar's circle of Finders after he completes his mission if it'll ease your mind. But you have to promise me you won't get too attached and depend on him should something happen to him."

Allen bit his cheek to keep his protest back. He wasn't sure he could make such a promise but knew the consequences of his grief should Narein get killed.

Leveling his gaze with Komui's, he took in a shaky breath and replied, "I swear I won't let grief ever consume me again."

Before Komui could question the meaning of his statement, Allen left, leaving the Chief wondering why he had said that.

* * *

Upon suggestion by Lenalee, Allen collected his meager belongs and tucked Timcanpy into his sleeve. Looking at the room he had only slept in once, he wondered when he'd ever see it again and how long he'd be away. Komui made it sound like it'd be a while.

He found the cluster of three Finders waiting for him at the entrance to the underground canal. Narein was talking amiably to another Finder a few years older than him, laughing at something he said. Allen felt a little out of place as he approached them, gaining the stares of all the Finders, Narein included.

For a moment Allen thought his friend was going to ignore him, but then the older teen draped an arm over his shoulders and drew him close, beaming as he said, "This is the Exorcist I was telling you about!"

The mixed emotions that had been in the other two Finder's eyes melted away and both men smiled with ease.

"Can't believe you both stuck up against Kanda," one of the Chinese men said, brushing a hand through his shaggy blond hair.

"Yeah, word's spreading all across the Finder Department as we speak," the other added, the same nationality as his friend only with shorter black hair. He offered a hand to Allen. "I'm Maosa, and that's Kie."

"Allen," he replied as they shook hands. "I take it you'll be escorting me to General Yeegar?"

"We'd be the ones," agreed Kie as he and Allen now shook hands. "We've been ordered to deliver a golem to the General in Copenhagen before going on to Helsingr."

The young Exorcist nodded and before long they were underway, talking about the Order and what it was like being a Finder as opposed to being an Exorcist. Allen mostly listened, something he did frequently through the entire journey.

He listened, and hardly said a word.

* * *

It took three boat and train rides to make it to Copenhagen in the span of four days, the trip mostly uneventful but relaxing nonetheless. The group of four offered stories and riddles, Maosa and Kie even going out of their way to try and teach Allen and Narein how to play poker. Narein struggled with the basics, but Allen seemed to have an affinity towards the card game.

They soon accused him of cheating after he began winning so many of the games in a row, having since surpassed beginner's luck. Several occasions he claimed he wasn't, but it was clear that he was. No one was willing to prove otherwise though.

That afternoon on the fourth day they came to a stop point where a Finder stood waiting. Allen and Narein shared anxious looks, unwilling to go their separate ways. Maosa and Kie noticed this and could only sympathize. Kie handed Narein the case carrying the new golem for General Yeegar as he said, "Passed this to Thierry. We'll wait here for you two to share your goodbyes."

"Just don't take too long," Maosa warned Narein. "The train waits for no one."

Narein nodded and began leading Allen out, the two strangely silent. Stepping out onto the outdoors platform, they pushed their way through the crowd over to the Finder standing nearby. He was a man of average height with dark chestnut hair, thick sideburns, and slight beard. A kind expression came to his face at the sight of the approaching teens.

"Good evening, you must have brought the new golem for General Yeegar," the Finder addressed, taking the briefcase from Narein's hands. Then he turned to Allen, a moment of shock fleeting across his features at the sight of him. He hid it well with a smile, but Allen still caught it nonetheless. "And you must be Allen Walker, the General's new apprentice. Komui told me I should be expecting you."

"It's nice to meet you…"

"Thierry. I'm one of General Yeegar's assigned Finders," he replied.

"Well it's nice to meet you, Thierry," Allen said, "but could you give us a minute? We'd like to say our goodbyes."

He nodded in understanding and stepped away, taking a seat on the farthest bench and politely looking away to give them some privacy.

Allen exhaled slowly as he turned to Narein, soon caught up in a hug by the older teen. Narein held him close, a sense of protectiveness causing him to tighten his hold.

"You do everything you're told to do, Allen," murmured Narein.

"Same goes for you," Allen reminded, patting his back slowly. "I didn't think we'd be separated so soon."

"Yah, well, we'll see each again real soon. If all goes well, I should see you again in about a month or two. Then we can be with each other all the time until you're finished training with General Yeegar."

"Right…" Allen sniffed. His throat soon grew tight with emotion as he added in a whisper, "Don't die out there."

Narein gave a shaky laugh. "I can guarantee you that I won't."

"Can you? I mean you don't exactly have Innocence or any—"

Narein stiffened and Allen trailed his sentence off, pulling away to see his best friend glaring at the ground.

"Narein…"

"Just because I don't have Innocence doesn't mean I can't survive, Allen." Narein snapped, Allen's doubt having pushed him too far. "I don't need you to always be there to protect me. I can take care of myself!"

"I just don't want to—"

"Yeah, well, if you keep meddling then one of these days I will get killed, because of you, just like Mana was when we were kids."

It was too little too late when Narein realized that he shouldn't have said that. He had gone too far. Allen stepped back and Narein hated himself for it. He dared to look up and saw that Allen was staring at him with eyes glazed with sorrow. Clearly he was just as shocked as Narein was that he had said that.

Trying to amend his statement Narein quickly began, "Allen, I didn't mean—"

"Good luck on your mission, Narein." Allen smiled, though he could tell it was fake.

He turned away from his best friend, ignoring his calls to stop. The sound of the train's whistle blaring across the outdoors platform filled the air and Narein realized that he had to board the train very soon. And that he would have to leave Allen on bad terms.

Life couldn't have sucked more.

Allen refused to look back as the train began to pull out. He instead walked up to Thierry, feeling miserable but hoping he didn't look it. Unfortunately it was obvious and concern filtered into Thierry's features.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," mumbled Allen, keeping his gaze at his feet.

Thierry didn't push the subject, though he did offer him to sit. "I hope you don't mind, but I think we'll just wait here for the General to finish his mission. It shouldn't take long."

"And how long is 'shouldn't take long' exactly?"

"I'd say about two hours," replied Thierry. "He isn't exactly in Copenhagen at the moment."

Allen sighed, getting the sense that he was in for a long two hours. "So…Chief Komui told me the General is strict when it comes to manners. Do you find that to be the case?"

"Yeah, sure, I mean sometimes he can be a stickler for table manners and proper language, but I've worked around him long enough to know he's a really nice guy."

Allen gave a nod. This guy was reminding him more and more of Mana, making his heart ache for his father. He never realized how much he missed him until now.

Misinterpreting Allen's solemnness to be aggravation, Thierry added, "General Yeegar is a kind and genuine leader who knows a wide variety of subjects."

This picked Allen's interest considerable and he turned to the Finder to say something when he realized it was too embarrassing to admit. Thierry noticed this, unfortunately, and pressed him to know what he was going to say.

"It's nothing…" Allen lamely excused.

"Come on, what were you going to say?"

"You'd only laugh if I told you."

"I swear to you that I won't," he promised. "Believe me, there was a lot of things I was embarrassed to say when the General began teaching me."

"Well…" Allen sighed as he fiddled with his ponytail. "I…I don't know how to write and I…I can barely read."

Thierry gave a sympathetic smile. "That's not so bad considering I didn't know to read or write completely, so don't beat yourself up about it," he soothed. "I hear before he joined the Order he taught young children. So maybe that's why he teaches all of us, and he'll teach you too."

"He sounds like a really great guy. I look forward to meeting him."

And he truly meant it.

* * *

General Kevin Yeegar sat in his private carriage as it drove through the countryside of Denmark, heavy in thought. One of his Finders had received news from Chief Komui Lee that a young Exorcist recruit was being sent to him for mentorship. It's been many years sense he had had an apprentice, the last one being the once wild but now composed Klaud Nyne. If memory served him correct she was a General now, having met the credentials a couple years ago.

The thought made him aware just how old he really was, leaving him second guessing if he was capable of taking on another apprentice. He was in his eighties now, though he'd like to think he was half that age, and it was soon getting close to the decision of whether or not he should retire. Of course he could easily use his age as an excuse, but he couldn't simply put down his weapon and walk away.

He was a soldier of life, an Exorcist. Just because he was old didn't change that. It was his duty to pass on his knowledge to those who were capable of learn it. Perhaps that firm belief was what had pushed him to accept a boy named Allen Walker as his apprentice. Or maybe it had something to do with the vague description he had received from Headquarters.

A boy born with Innocence.

He simply couldn't refuse the offer, intrigued by such a boy. He wanted to know more about him, and as the coach drew ever closer to where they would meet, he steadily grew more and more anxious. Just what would this boy be like? Would he be born soldier or would he simply flake under the pressure? Was he terribly young or in the prime of his life?

Such details he was unaware of, having not bothered to ask, so when his ride finally managed to make it to where Allen and Thierry currently resided, he was…surprise, to say the least.

* * *

The heralding sound of hooves alerted the young Exorcist and his accompanying Finder the approach of a vehicle. Both turned their heads to the right and discovered their hunches to be correct, that a carriage was quickly approaching them.

"Looks like he's here," Thierry said with a hint of relief, waving to the Finder at the reins. The Finder controlling the four white stallions pulled back on the reins, slowing the vehicle to a stop.

Thierry rose to his feet and greeted the carriage and its occupants. Meanwhile, Allen remained sitting on the bench, nervous of this encounter with the General who he would be calling Master. Words could only say so much when describing a person. Just what was General Kevin Yeegar really like? There was only one way to find out.

He could hear the sound of the door to the coach opening a few feet away, the murmuring of voices not too far off. Allen swallowed thickly as he continued to stare out at the countryside hills. The sound of footsteps approaching made his heart quicken, brain rushing with a million thoughts. He sensed the person stop; for what reason Allen didn't know. Silence passed before a gravelly voice heavy with age asked, "Are you there, Allen Walker?"

For second he thought the man to be blind, but then he realized that a large bush was obscuring him from view from where he sat. This made the situation much more nerve-wracking. Neither knew what the other looked like.

Sucking in a deep breath, Allen slowly rose to his feet as he called back, "I'm still here, General Yeegar."

With feet that felt like lead he proceed around the bend, coming face to face with an old man with long white hair bearing a black coat with gold trimmings. Here he faced General Kevin Yeegar.

To his credit, the General hid his astonishment well, but Allen could still see it—always could—whenever someone met him for the first time.

Yeegar studied the boy, filled with curiosity and wonder. Out of all the things, he'd never expected the young man to have stark white hair at such an age, especially considering the length of his hair. It must have been that color for years. And that scar! Whatever could've given him that? No natural creature could've marked him in such a way. Maybe a human, and if so, why? Who would do such a thing to an innocent child? He couldn't believe any human to be that wickedly cruel.

So if that was so, then just what did that to him?

He felt sorry for the boy with the sad existence.

He almost regretted ever agreeing to teach such an unfortunate person. But the part of him that was still a teacher was glad that he did. Allen appeared to be a person who could use all the guidance in the world.

The sound of his voice cut into his thoughts and brought him back to reality, causing him to focus on what he was babbling about.

"I hope you pardon my appearance. I don't exactly have the biggest wardrobe, and my coat hasn't been finished yet. But I do clean up nicely, so if we happen to stop by a river or lake, I'll make sure to wash up and dress up in cleaner clothes." Allen rambled, bowing deep at the waist.

Yeegar couldn't keep himself from smiling in amusement. "My, you seem to probably be the most proper of the apprentices I've ever had the privilege of teaching."

"My father was a man who raised me to be like him: a gentleman."

"That's good," Yeegar approved. "Your father must be a great man."

He noticed the way Allen stiffened at the comment.

"He was." Allen agreed softly.

Studying his reactions carefully, Yeegar eventually relented his task and said, "Come, Allen. We can continue the introductions in the carriage as we make our way to camp for tonight."

When Allen stepped inside the coach, he was surprised to find it spacious, complete with a small built in kitchen. There didn't appear to be any beds, so either the General slept in a tent or chose to man it out in the plush seats that lined either side. The blanket on one of the cushions appeared to give him his answer.

Taking a seat near the door, Allen watched as the General sat across from him, the briefcase that carried his new golem resting at his feet. Allen placed his suitcase on the floor beside him. The two stared at each other as the carriage began to move, Allen not knowing what to say. That is if he could say anything. He was still nervous about General Yeegar.

"So…Allen, how old are you?" asked Yeegar.

"About fifteen I would say," he replied. "There was a period in my life where time kind of lost meaning to me."

Yeegar knew he shouldn't ask about it but hoped in time Allen would be comfortable enough to elaborate. The boy was exceedingly vague and gave only what was necessary in answers.

"You have a very youthful face, but your eyes tell me that just because you are young does not mean you haven't had your share of hardship."

"I've faced a lot, sir. More than I could ever wish on anyone."

"Does it have something to do with your premature white hair and or your unusual scar?"

Allen gave a violent flinch, turning his head to the left and resting his hand on his face, covering his wound from view. "Yes…" he whispered. "It's predominantly the reason why I've gone through hell and back again."

Yeegar could see that the mysterious reason to his appearance had to have been a traumatic experience if he was acting this recluse. Once again he felt sorry for the lad. It seemed he had a lot going on for one so young.

Wishing to change the subject, Allen asked his first question. "I heard you use to be a school teacher. Is that true?"

"Yes, almost fifty years ago," he replied, "But I wasn't a good teacher, not by the stretch of the imagination."

"Why?"

The General gave an amused grin. "I'll share with you my secret when you are ready to share with me yours. Fair enough?"

Allen shrugged. "The reason I asked, sir, was that I was hoping that, while I'm training, you'd be able to…teach me how to read and write."

"You don't know? I figured your father would've sent you to school if he was so keen on manners."

"I guessed he would've if we had had the time and money," admitted Allen. "But my father and I lived with a traveling circus. The people there were generous and kind and they tried their best to teach me, but education was limited, so I was only able to learn the alphabet, how to read simple words, and how my name is spelt."

"I see…well then, I'd be more than happy to catch you up on your education. It's very important to have those basic fundamentals down pat before you're sent on your first mission and you have no idea what to do because you can't read the mission file. Or you can't write down a testament on what happened during that mission."

"I never realized it'd be that important for an Exorcist…"

"It's important for everyone, but yes, it does become important for Exorcists," Yeegar said, "I'm glad you told me this before you found out the hard way."

"Yeah…I think I'd end up in a pickle one of these days…"

The two lapsed into momentary silence as Yeegar peered out of a curtain covered window. Noting the sunset streaks in the sky, he realized it was time to begin preparing dinner if he wanted to have the table set and ready by nightfall.

Rising to his feet and moving to the kitchen's gas stove, Yeegar pulled out an old kettle as he asked, "Dinner will be ready in about an hour. In the meantime, would you like some tea? I just picked the herbs this morning."

"Yes, thank you," Allen answered politely, sitting back in his seat. "Excuse me, Master, but is your Innocence parasitic-type or equipment-type?"

Yeegar gave a hearty chuckle as he began chopping up a head of lettuce. "You make an old man very amused, son. You don't have to refer to me as Master. I'm not a pompous individual as, say, like Marian. But to answer your question, I bear an equipment-type Innocence. I don't think I'd even still be alive if it were parasitic."

"Oh…"

"I heard from Komui though that you are."

"Will it make teaching me difficult?"

"It will not be the easiest, but I can still train you. I've taught parasitic-types before. In fact, one of them is a General."

"What about the others?"

Allen noticed Yeegar pause before continuing his chopping. "They're dead."

His words made Allen more frightened about the lifespan of those who had Innocence as a part of their body. Just how long would he have before his life expired as well? The odds weren't in his favor if only few parasitic-types survive.

"How old is the General you taught?" asked Allen, hoping to get an estimate.

"She's, I'd say, in her late twenties, early thirties. She came to me when she was eighteen years old."

"Why didn't Komui send me to her then?"

"That's something you'd have to ask him. But Klaud's Innocence is different than the typical parasitic-type. Her Innocence is an actual sentient being, the first in recorded history, unlike that of being a part of her body." Yeegar explained.

When Allen gave no reply, he looked over his shoulder to see the boy staring in disbelief at him, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"Allen, what is it?" he asked out of concern.

"What was her name again, General?" he questioned thickly, feeling his heart beat rapidly with anticipation.

"Klaud, Klaud Nyne. Why?"

"She has a small white monkey, doesn't she."

"Yes, she does. It's her Innocence, actually."

Yeegar was startled to find Allen break down in tears, a smile on his face as he laughed to himself. The General knitted his thin brow, not getting what was so funny or why he was crying in the first place. "Allen…"

Allen didn't answer him right away, wiping at his eyes and nose with the back of his hand, trying to control his laughter. After all these years he had thought her to be dead. And though he didn't remember her all that well, he still cared about her and treasured the times they played together. If only Royal knew that she was alive as well. How relieved he would be upon hearing such a thing. His sorrow would finally be put to rest.

"I'm sorry, sir," Allen apologized. "I knew Klaud, she worked at the circus my father and I traveled with. All this time I thought she was dead, but know I know otherwise."

"Then I hope you two meet again in the near future. I'm sure she'd really enjoy it, all things considering."

"So do I!" beamed Allen, eager to see her again after so many years.

He wondered how much she had changed and whether or not either of them would recognize the other. As Allen simmered in his thoughts, Yeegar continued preparing dinner, placing a frying pan on the stove after moving the hissing kettle away. Letting that heat up, he poured a glass of tea for Allen and passed it to him, watching him take it with his right hand, the hand he seemed dominate with.

After another forty-five minutes dinner was prepared, the carriage having stopped by then. Thierry and the other Finder, a young man with sandy blond hair that fell over the right of his face named Andrew, set up the collapsible table and set the dishes upon it, leaving Allen to watch as a humble guest for tonight. Once that was that was done, Andrew took a few rolls of bread with him before returning outside, stating it was his turn to stand guard for the meantime.

Serving Thierry and Allen first before himself, Yeegar finally sat down across from Allen, wiping at his sweaty brow before picking up his fork and knife and saying to Allen, "Now please, eat, this meal is in honor of you becoming an Exorcist and enduring its hardships."

Allen paused, having forgotten the downsides of his decision to become an Exorcist—a decision he had no choice but to make.

"Though you are a full-fledged member of the Order, it is often difficult to deal with the horrors of war, especially for one as young as you are."

As the General began cutting into his tenderloin steak, he and Thierry couldn't help noticing the way Allen scarfed down his meal, finishing the steak in three bites and stuffing his mouth with salad and bread rolls.

"Unbelievable…" Thierry murmured, in the midst of cutting his own steak.

"It's quite common actually. The host of parasitic-type accommodators tend to have abnormally large appetites, as you can see. Very…impressive." General Yeegar explained, watching as Allen stuffed his mouth with more rolls of bread.

He proceeded to devour the bowl of extra tossed salad, finishing it in the matter of a few seconds. When he was finished he looked up to see that the General and Thierry were staring at him and realize what he had done.

"I'm sorry," Allen apologized bashfully. "It seems as though I cleared the table."

"Oh no, don't worry about it, son," Yeegar assured as he got up and began preparing Allen another slab of steak. "Eat as much as you like, I don't mind. Eating an abundant amount of food is a wonderful complement to a cook, so please, eat your fill."

With that said, Allen indulged himself with whatever was passed onto his plate, periodically sipping from his cup his tea. The time it took Yeegar and Thierry to finish their own meals was the time it took Allen to have his fill, giving a satisfied sigh as he sat back.

"That was very good, General." Allen complemented genuinely.

"Thank you, I'm glad you liked it," replied Yeegar before he turned to Thierry. "Would you like some more?"

"No thanks sir," assured Thierry.

"Then would you mind taking that plate I set aside for Andrew out to him?"

Thierry nodded, wordlessly taking the plate and exiting the vehicle.

Now alone once more, Yeegar asked Allen a question that had been plaguing him for quite some time now. "Can you move your left arm, Allen?"

Allen gave a nervous chuckle. "Is it that obvious?"

"You just simply favor your right side more than your left, that's how I could tell."

"Well, that's another thing I was hoping you could help me with. I lost the majority of my mobility in my left arm, my Innocence arm, and I can't activate as easily as I should."

"Don't worry, with proper training I'm certain we can fix that. Do you know your synchronization rate?"

"Hevlaska said it was 11%"

"A dangerous level, especially for a parasite accommodator. But not to worry, we'll soon change that as well."

Throughout the remainder of the conversation they discussed more about Innocence, comparing their own with each other and the benefits that either possessed. Allen soon found it easy to talk to the man, not all nervous around him anymore. But when it came to revealing his secrets he was still wary, guarding the answers to questions he knew the General wanted to ask but didn't. He was grateful that he man didn't pry into things he deemed private.

When Yeegar peered outside again, he noticed the sky heavy with night and decided that it was best for them to retire. Bending down and fishing underneath one of the seats, he soon pulled out a meager blanket and deflated pillow. Passing the two to Allen he said, "You may be an Exorcist, but your journey as one has only just begun. Until I see that you are worthy of bearing the title, you are to sleep outside with only this blanket and pillow."

"You mean you don't have any tents?"

"Of course I have tents, but those are for Thierry and Andrew, along with whatever sleeping gear they should need. I would sleep in one as well but my age doesn't allow me to sleep outside like I use to. Instead I sleep in here, where it is nice and warm."

"Well, I don't see it as much of a big deal…"

"You'd be surprised how many young Exorcists say that, only to complain the next morning how they were unable to get a wink of sleep. Besides, you are lucky, it is only late Spring. Just wait until the summer showers come. Then you won't be saying the same thing."

Allen hadn't thought about that, and now that he was he was hoping that no such storm ever came to ruin his sleep and possibly get him sick. The thought made his spirit sink. He had the worst luck a person could have.

"Well…goodnight General."

"Goodnight, Allen."

The teen let himself out with pillow and blanket in tow. Having no sleeping clothes, and unwilling to let his spare clothes get covered with grass stains, Allen found a secluded patch of grass hidden by some bushes and stripped down to his underwear, glad that no women were around to see him in nothing but his undergarments.

Plopping down on his back, he settled as best he could as he pulled the blanket over his body, keeping his eyes trained on the stars.

He wondered if Mana could possibly be one of those stars, watching over him.

It was a silly thought, but he'd like to believe in it.

* * *

_Author's Note: I think I've failed to mention this before, but I don't own any songs or D. Gray-man, manga or anime. Some of the lines were taken from both, as well as some characters. If you know your D. Gray-man, then you might know who Maosa and Kie are. I won't say anything but if you have any fears that I might change something that is canon that involves them, rest assured that I won't—except for one thing at least. But we'll get to that later._

_So what do you think? Another change I've made to canon with Allen going to General Yeegar. I wanted to give him some more screen time unlike the manga/anime._

_But don't worry, I will keep scenes that I feel (or are my favorite) should be written in. I may change some things with it, as I did with the cafeteria scene with Kanda and Allen._

_Anyways, hope you enjoy and are eager to know what happens next. Message me if you have any questions/concerns._


	27. Falter in Performance

Ch. 26

'_Oh, war, I despise_

_Because it means destruction_

_To innocent lives'_

_-Edwin Starr: War_

The feel of water bending dumped onto his face startled Allen awake, the poor boy giving a shout as he shot up violently, bangs sticking over his eyes. Rubbing his hair away, he looked up to see General Yeegar posed over him with an empty bucket. The sky was still dark with splashes of red dawn. A hint of amusement twinkled in his old withered eyes.

"Good morning, lad. I hope you got a good night's sleep." Yeegar greeted as Allen made sure the blanket rested on his lap, a slight tint of pink to his cheeks.

"As well as anyone could've, sir." Allen yawned, untying his hair in order to run a hand through it to brush away the excess leaves and twigs.

Waiting as Allen groomed his hair free of the earth and began struggling to put his pants back on, Yeegar stopped him from putting his shirt and vest on. "You'll only soil them once you're finished with what I have in mind. It's best that you just leave them off."

"Okay…" sighed Allen as he buttoned his pants and looped his belt through.

When he was finished, Yeegar ordered, "Now, get up."

Allen did as he was told, nervously tying his hair back. He studied the General, his eyes hard and unreadable. Yeegar slowly and tediously stripped down to his pants, folding his clothes into a neat pile. Right away Allen could tell that whatever was about to transpire was something he wasn't going to end up liking. And he couldn't help staring at the man's muscles, his toned body belying his actual age. It made Allen feel rather lame with his shirt off, having no muscles of his own to show off or admire.

Rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, Yeegar took a solid stance, leaving his arms at his sides. He stared at Allen before saying, "Come at me."

"What?" Allen questioned in disbelief.

"Attack me as if I were the enemy," he specified patiently.

"General…"

"That's an order, Allen. As your teacher you must do as I say. Now, attack me."

Wavering on the spot, the young Exorcist in-training chose to see if the man was kidding. It turned out he wasn't after Allen's quick assessment. Swallowing nervously, he began pacing around, keeping his eyes locked on Yeegar's. Hoping this tactic would help him feign moves, Allen faked left and began charging forward at the General. Unfortunately for him his attempts were pathetic at best and the General knew right away what he had had in mind.

Sidestepping out of the way at the last minute, Yeegar elbowed him in the shoulders, the blow knocking him off his feet to face plant the ground. Allen got back up hesitantly, wiping his face clean of the dirt.

"Again," ordered Yeegar.

Sighing in slight frustration, Allen took the time to think his next move through before executing it. Pacing warily back and forth, he ran forward once more, jumping to the side before sending forth a punch. Yeegar swerved from the blow and took a hold of his arm, flipping him onto his back. The wind was knocked out of him and Allen laid struggling for breath.

"Again." Yeegar solemnly said.

It took him a moment to catch his breath and when he did, Allen was all but reluctant to get back up. But like the General had pointed out, he was his teacher and therefore he had to do as he said. Resiliently he got back up, this time charging forward instead of hanging back. Swiftly and clumsily he punched out at the General, earning a blow to the gut.

Collapsing to his knees as he held his stomach, anger began to rise as he listens to his teacher say that confounded word he was beginning to loathe.

"Again."

Gritting his teeth he rose to the challenge, kicking out at the old man's feet. Yeegar promptly stepped on the boy's foot, earning a shout of pain. Swinging at the old man, Allen successfully ducked under a blow and in his moment of pride and stupidity he began to laugh in triumph. That is until he was punched in the nose.

Clutching at his face as blood began to issue from his nostrils, Yeegar appeared to be ruthless as he pulled on his ponytail to knock him off balance and elbowed him in the face. Collapsing like a pile of bricks to the ground, Allen held his bleeding nose as he curled in on himself, exhausted.

"Again."

"No!" Allen whined, voice muffled by his hand.

"Again, Allen."

"I think you broke my nose…"

"Again, Allen!" Yeegar finally snapped, pressing a boot on the boy's side.

The contact unleashed a whirlwind of movements from Allen. Screaming out his frustration to the air he pounced at the man, missing him by an inch. Using his momentum, he landed and turned hard to the right to send a kick. The blow glanced off Yeegar's forearm, his foot soon ensnared by the man's calloused hands. With immense strength the General hoisted Allen off the ground by his left foot and proceeded to toss him like he was some kind of doll.

Allen landed on his side, panting heavily. Sweat and bits of blood from his nose covered his body, along with the occasional clump of dirt or swelling bruise. Wallowing in his defeat, he felt angry at himself. He felt so pitiful being reduced to such a state and the only conciliation he can think of is that none of his friends had been there to see him lose whatever semblance of pride he may have had.

The General approached him, appearing to not even have broken a sweat. "A man named Sun Tzu said, 'The dance of battle is always played to the same impatient rhythm. What begins as a surge of violent motion is always reduced to the perfectly still'. I find his words to hold a bit of truth to them, wouldn't you say?"

He bent forward and offered a hand. Allen looked at it and swatted it away, anger creasing his brow.

"I don't care what some guy named Sun Tzu said," he snapped as he got to his feet.

"You should, it relates to your first lesson." Yeegar replied, exuding the patience that any good teacher has.

Allen looked at him skeptically. "Yeah? And what would that be? Beating the crap out of me?"

"Ah…the irrational youth…" sighed Yeegar, "Always wishing to prove themselves."

"So what if I am?"

"You need to learn that not everything can be solved through swift punches and hurtful words. What you lack is discipline, discipline _and_ patience."

Allen spat out a clot of blood to the side. He took in a few breaths, the action steadily calming him down. Yeegar waited until his frustration and anger dissipated some more before asking in concern, "Are you alright, Allen?"

He glanced up at him, offering a small grin as he looked away. "I think so…I might need some ice though."

"I'll go get you a rag to clean yourself off with as well."

The boy watched his mentor walk back to the carriage, slowly lowering himself to the ground. Puffing out a deep breath, Allen berated himself for losing his temper in front of his mentor. Mana wouldn't have let himself be swept away by something like anger. Despite not being back at the circus, he still wore Mana's mask. Maybe it was because he still needed to bury the thing that isolation and fear had turned him into. Being Mana was a lot better than being himself.

When Yeegar returned, he found his apprentice seated neatly on his knees, his head bowing as he approached. "Forgive me, General. I was…brash and impudent."

"Your actions showed your age, your words do not," Yeegar remarked as he tossed the dish towel to Allen. He sat down, watching as the teen began wiping his face clean of blood. "But something tells me that the reason why is better left unexplained, am I right?"

"Yes, sir." Allen replied. "It's not really important anyways…"

Icing his nose, Allen winced as the pain spiked before easing away into numbness. When he eventually lowered the rag and melting ice, Yeegar began to give his evaluation on Allen's technique and recommendations for improvement.

"You swing too slow and you come in too quickly. You also overthink your next move, leaving you susceptible to enemy attack. The only thing good I can say is that you're resilient and can be quite quick on your feet."

"I must be your worse student."

"Actually you're not. Marian Cross was."

This caught Allen's interest. "You mean General Cross?"

"Yes. The man was lazy and disrespectful, and couldn't hold himself in battle as well as he does now. And yet he's become one of the Order's finest Exorcists, despite how unconventional his methods may be."

Allen gave a snicker of amusement. "He sure is quite the character, General."

"I suppose that, in the end, that's what makes Marian who he is. He is a fine Exorcist and someday so shall you."

"You really think so?"

General Yeegar gave his apprentice a warm smile. "I know so."

* * *

The General advised that he should run five miles every morning, steadily increasing to ten when his endurance began to improve. Allen resented the fact that he had to do more than just one. After he was done with that he was to do exercises to strengthen his left arm, to which Allen said he had been given some rubber balls to practice juggling. He was to do that an hour in the morning an hour at night. In between they would practice the basics of combat and writing. He didn't know what he hated more: having to sit in silence for a half hour enduring meditation or having to write a full paragraph without messing up his penmanship. Both were very trying to his patience.

As always Yeegar proved to be a patient teacher, even when he didn't understand Allen all that well. It seemed as though the boy was wrapped full with mysteries, shrouded in secrets that laid buried deep in his heart. He wasn't certain if Allen was entirely aware of this though, the young man having shown instances where he would wake from a nightmare screaming with all the sorrow and fear in world, only to question it lightly with that dazed look of his whenever Yeegar asked him about it.

The boy could very well be lying about his obliviousness but Yeegar was inclined to believe he wasn't. His expression of being told of these occurrences only warranted distraught and confusion that was too real to be considered fake.

Just what did he dream of that left him shrieking to the heavens at night?

After a week of staying with them, Yeegar had his apprentice pose for various lengths of time, not to move a muscle until he was given the word he could. The General studied him as he sat in a meditative pose not a few feet away. His legs were spread out and his right knee bent forward, his torso twisted to the right and his left arm extended out to its fullest length inactivated while his right arm extended to its fullest behind him, both hands resting flat.

His left arm trembled violently in small spasms from the cramped muscles. Sweat glistened all across his bare torso, beads of it sliding down the side of his face to his chin. His eyes were fogged with heavy exhaustion but amidst it all stubbornness shined strong. He hasn't move in what could very well be two hours. His pride wasn't about to let his muscles aching with fatigue make him end in failure.

A bead of sweat trailed into his eye and for a second Allen almost went to wipe it away. Will power made him not move an inch.

Yeegar had to commend the boy on his strength of dedication and desire to achieve greatness. Even now he could see what potential his pupil had in becoming a great Exorcist. If only he'd let go of his past burdens and open up to the world completely…then he could become truly extraordinary.

"Allen," he called, catching a flicker of eye movement showing that he was listening. "I wish to ask you something, but you may choose whether to answer or not."

"I'm listening, General."

"Can you tell me what your father was like?"

He noticed the way the muscle in Allen's jaw jumped as he clenched his teeth. His silver eyes shifted away, briefly closing for a given amount of time. Yeegar didn't call him out for it.

When his eyes opened he asked, "Why is it that you wish to know?"

"I'm curious," Yeegar admitted. "You've mention him your sleep. Mana, is it?"

"Yes…that's his name."

"What about your mother?"

"I don't know who she was. Mana said she died the day I was born. I asked him about her once, but he just gave me a look that was blank and I knew never to ask him again about my mother."

"I'm sorry to hear that, son."

"So am I." Allen remarked with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

He didn't even know his own mother's name. Mana would never tell him. Once, in his life when Mana was still around and he had been six, he had the silly notion that Mana didn't even know who his mother was. But every time he thought it, he'd push it away with a laugh. That was just ludicrous! Who doesn't know the mother of their own son?

Still aware of Allen's agitation, Yeegar pressed on, hoping to learn more about his apprentice and his mysterious past. "Tell me, what did Mana do while you frequented the circus?"

"He was a clown, one of the best, and the crowd loved him for it. I was training to become one as well, because I wanted to be just like him, jealous of how he could make so many people smile. In order to top that I had to be the best, better than he ever was so that I could make the entire world smile." A dark depression settled onto his features. "But it was just a dream…a dream that became a nightmare."

"How?"

Allen remained silent, jaw set tight. Yeegar rubbed his chin in slight frustration as he stood, eyes sympathetic. "Allen, you'll never get over whatever it is unless you talk about it. Your past is what's keeping you from fully committing yourself to your call as an Exorcist."

The boy glanced to him with a look of anger burning in his eyes. Again the General caught a glimpse of the person Allen was trying desperately not to be.

"Pardon me, General, but I can't simply let go of what's happened to me," he growled. "If I let it go, then it has the chance of being forgotten, and I can't let him be forgotten."

"You mean Mana?" Yeegar pried.

Before Yeegar could react he found himself on the ground, his cheek rapidly swelling. He looked up at the boy with startling patient eyes that were filled with understanding. Thierry and Andrew froze from their task of building a fire, gazes trained on Allen. Thierry dropped what lumber he had and made to move to the General before receiving a cold glare from Allen that froze the Finder in his place.

Returning his gaze to Yeegar, he said in voice that held a cold edge to it, "Don't assume to know things about me or my past, General. I don't intend to share with you anything about whom I am or who I was. So I'd think its best that you let the matter drop and just forget that we ever had this discussion."

Allen stalked off before the General could reply, only able to rub at his cheek as the boy disappeared. Thierry approached him then, helping his teacher and superior up to his feet.

"What just happened there, General?" he asked, gazing off at the direction that Allen had walked off to.

"I'm not sure," he replied as he followed his gaze. "But I believe I might've struck a nerve with the boy."

"Should I go after him, sir?"

"No, Thierry. That task lies with me."

Thierry was filled with concern. "But sir! What if he attacks you more viciously than before?"

"Then I'll simply have to fight back," Yeegar said in a matter-of-fact tone, taking the first steps towards following Allen.

* * *

As the sun began to sink and the stars began to sparkle in the sky, Allen came to a stop in a clearing with a small pond. Breathing heavy through his nose in an attempt to rein in his anger, he stopped at the foot of the pond. Kneeling down, he stared at his reflection and the longer he did that, the more frustrated he felt with himself.

Narein's words echoed endlessly in his head. _"Yeah, well, if you keep meddling then one of these days I will get killed, because of you, just like Mana was when we were kids."_

That sad part about it was that he was right, even though he hadn't meant to say it.

Mana was dead because of him.

The thought made him exceedingly angry with himself. In a fit of rage he struck out at the water's surface, distorting his reflection. He did this several times, to the point where both of his hands were covered with mud.

"It's all my fault…" he chanted heatedly to himself, his words of loathing soon becoming words of grief. Soon he was crying over himself, reduced to nothing but a pathetic shell of doubts and questions.

"It's all…my fault…" he hiccupped for the hundredth time.

"I don't believe that to be true, Allen."

Allen looked up to see Yeegar standing a few feet away. His presence reminded Allen of his actions and immediately he was ashamed, disappointed with himself. Turning to him, he bowed down to his hands and knees and pressed his forehead to the ground.

Sucking in a deep breath he said, "I don't expect you to forgive me for the way I treated you, or how I disrespected you, but I'd like to say that—"

The placating hand to the shoulder stopped his sentence from being finished. Allen looked up sharply, surprised to see the old man's eyes filled not with anger but with understanding and warmth. He couldn't fathom why his mentor wasn't upset at his actions, why he wasn't receiving an earful for it. His lack of expected reaction made Allen that the more frightened and weepy.

He looked down, because it was better than facing the General's comforting smile.

Yeegar tightened his grip he had on the teen's shoulder. "Allen, I want to apologize for what I did. I shouldn't have pried knowing you'd get upset. I'm deeply sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," Allen sniffed deeply, voice shaking with his emotions. "It should be me who apologizes. I shouldn't have gotten angry over your questions. You didn't mean to make me angry, I know that. I'd understand if you sent me away back to headquarters but please sir, accept my words if nothing else."

The General gave a tired sigh. The boy wasn't about to let him take some of the blame, now was he? Sitting down, Yeegar drew his hand away as he said, "You are a very peculiar person, Allen. You burden yourself with so much and share so little with those who want to help. I'm not saying you should be open about yourself just yet but at least…acknowledge the fact that there are those who will stand by your side no matter what the cost. You are not alone in this war, Allen."

"War…it's such a terrible word," mumbled Allen absentmindedly.

"It is indeed," inputted Yeegar. "But I guess that's why it's called that. If it were to be a pleasant word then people would attribute to pleasant things and that in itself is truly terrible."

The boy looked up slowly, peeking at the man through his eyelashes. The General still bore a smile, one that deepened with mirth when he noticed Allen staring at him. He quickly looked away.

"General…" he began softly, "Have you ever loved a person so much that it destroyed you when they went away?"

"No." Yeegar admitted. "I've never let myself get too attached to a person, especially after I joined the Order. I take it you have."

"Yes. I loved my father with all the love a son can have. Mana was the most important person to me; he was my world. It killed me when he left."

"Why did he leave you, Allen?"

Allen looked up warily and gave a bitter smile. He wasn't getting it, it seemed. "Why does anyone leave the ones they love? Because they have to," he remarked, feeling terribly nostalgic. "I miss him so much…"

"You will see him again, Allen," assured Yeegar, vaguely aware of what the boy was trying to get at but yet again being very implicit about it.

"What makes you say that?"

"We all must have something that keeps us going, something that keeps us alive when we think we can't keep going anymore. If we didn't, then we all would've given up fighting this Holy War a long time ago."

Allen assessed his words, finding them interesting and partially true. He held onto the fact that what he was doing was protecting the people he cared about. For now it may only be Narein, but someday soon he felt it would become something more. That he would find himself wanting protect all the people in the world, if he had to.

And maybe, just maybe, he would see Mana again. Not simply through his dreams but to actually be with him, wherever he existed outside of the realm of the living. He liked to believe that wherever he was, he was at peace and happy.

That thought made his resolve to fight even stronger, that becoming an Exorcist wouldn't be a total waste.

Looking to his mentor, Allen asked softly, "What are you fighting for, sir?"

"I fight for a lot of things yet, at the same time, nothing at all. To see this through to the very end, to find proof that my efforts aren't essentially useless in the grand scheme of things, to pass on my knowledge to the next generation. All are very common dreams of any soldier, but I treasure them all the same."

"What about something that's…more personal to you?"

"Well…to maybe see the shores of Dorset. Out of all the places I've travelled to, I've never once been there and I hear that the beaches are a sight to see. But I know that I'll never get the chance to see it. I'm old, the oldest outside of Hevlaska, and this war isn't about to end in my lifetime."

"It's still nice to dream though, even if it's impossible."

"Yes, even if it's impossible," agreed Yeegar softly as he looked to the night sky. "Those are always the best kinds."

The two sat in wordless silence, the air heavy with the sounds of the night. Chirps from crickets and birds created an enchanting harmony, the breeze across the grass adding a steady tempo. Both admired nature's music, enjoying the company during this somewhat somber time.

Minutes must have passed before General Yeegar got to his feet, hissing at the stiffness that had begun to set in his withering bones. Allen, on the contrary, remained sitting there, lazily staring up at the sky. He appeared to be searching for something, something the likes of with the General didn't know.

"It's getting late, Allen. Best we head back before we make anyone worry."

"Fine," he finally said after a heavy pause. He got to his feet slowly, exhaling a slow breath as he looked his teacher in the eyes. "I'll stay on guard for the night."

"If that will ease your conscience, then very well." Yeegar assented, leading the way back to camp.

Once they had returned, it was dark out and the two Finders were staring at the fire with varying amounts of troubled worry. Upon hearing them approach, both looked up with relieved smiles, rushing over to them anxiously. Words of relief were expressed to them both and though Thierry expressed how happy he was to see Allen alright, the boy simply gave him a few polite nods, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I'll watch the camp for the night," he told the two Finders. "You guys just enjoy your sleep."

"You can't mean the entire night, can you?" Thierry asked. When the boy appeared to serious, he objected by saying he shouldn't be on watch the entire night, it was just too difficult.

"Thierry," Yeegar eventually cut in. "Let the boy do what he wants."

No further discussion was made on the matter, and soon the two Finders and Yeegar were inside the carriage while Allen remained outside seated upon a sizable rock. He continued to stare up at the stars, still wishing that Mana was one of them. Sighing as he lowered his gaze, he eventually dug into his suitcase that lay not too far away and pulled out the photograph of Mana and him as a baby. He ran his thumb across Mana's smiling image.

"I never thought trying to be you would be so hard," he remarked to the photo. "Of course, no one could ever imitate you."

The longer he stared the more his heart began to ache for the man. Tears that he refused to cry welled up in his eyes. "If you can hear me, wherever you are, know how much I miss you and want to be with you. I'm doing what you said I'm supposed to be doing. As a reward, when all of this is over, can I be by your side again?"

He let the question hang in the air as he returned the photo to his suitcase and instead pulled out his juggling balls. Slowly and quite terribly he began to juggle, his left hand always cramping up at the last second. But it was getting better though; he could tell. He was beginning to feel again, and clenching and unclenching his hand hadn't become as trying as it used to. Perhaps soon he would be able to move the arm with a fuller range of motion instead of just up or down.

Time passed without meaning as he sat juggling, retrieving the ball that he failed to catch. This rhythm continued even as Thierry brought him his meal. A helping of fried fish and various vegetables. The sight made his stomach growl viciously. He ate his share silently and vaguely he began wondering where Timcanpy had gone off to. It seemed as though the golem was always making grand disappearances, only to return whenever he thought about it. This time it didn't.

When he was finished he set the plate down on the grass, hefting a sigh. He stared out into the darkness.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Yeegar went out to check on the boy. As he stepped out of the carriage, he found Thierry draping Allen's blanket across his shoulders, his body sitting slumped forward. Approaching the Finder and young Exorcist, he found Allen to be fast asleep, snoring softly to himself.

"I went to go check on him and found him asleep," whispered Thierry. "Should I wake him?"

"No," Yeegar whispered back. "Let him sleep. He's had a rough day."

Thierry nodded and took up the post of guarding the camp for the remainder of the night. Yeegar stared down at Allen and rested a hand lightly on his white hair. "Rest well, Allen," he said warmly, fixing the blanket before returning to the carriage. He stopped suddenly when he reached the door, turning to look back. He surveyed the surrounding trees for a moment, eyes lingering on a spot where he thought he spotted movement before shrugging it off as it being the night playing tricks on his eyes.

But then he heard a branch snap in the distance.

Involuntarily the General shuffled the chains wrapped around his upper arms down to his forearms, gripping some of the slack. He sent Thierry a look that told him to stay there before heading out to the forest. Making it to the foot of the tree line, Yeegar stood there lightly spinning the right chain over his head as he called, "Show yourself, akuma."

No reply was given, nor was any action forthcoming.

Knitting his thin brow, he swung the chain forward, feeling it wrap around the perpetrator. He pulled back, yanking hard on his Innocence's chain to bring forth the being that had been watching them. A loud shout from a man came in response, followed by a thud. Confused, Yeegar let go of his hold on his Innocence and willed it to return to him, the chain wrapping around his forearms as the man came forward into the light of the moon.

His large brimmed hat sat skewed on his head and leaves tangled through his long hair. A gold golem sat perched on his shoulder, grinning at its master. The man bore an unpleasant expression as he openly glared at Yeegar. The older General in turn gave a smile.

"Ah, why isn't this a pleasant surprise," Yeegar commented as he folded his arms behind his back. "It's so nice to see you again, Marian."

* * *

_Author's Note: I know this is a few thousand words shorter than the last chapter, but I wanted to end this chapter here. Not much happened in this chapter, I know. This chapter was meant to show the two dominant sides of Allen: the proper/polite side he attributes to Mana and his real self, the much more troubled and angry side. So no, he isn't bipolar even though he's acting like it._

_I think I'll have the next chapter in sometime next week. But don't hold me to it._

_Thanks for the reviews everyone. 50 more and this story reaches 200. Never dreamed I'd get so many at this point._


	28. Maybe and Perhaps

Ch. 27

'_So we move_

_We change by the speed of the choices we make_

_And the barriers are all self-made_

_That's so retrograde'_

_Bush: Out of this World_

"What pleasure do I owe you in this visit, Marian?" Yeegar asked as settled down opposite of Cross, the two sitting comfortable inside his coach.

The younger General wafted his hat around, scattering the filth from it. Brushing off his shoulders, he sat back and rested his boots on the table. Mud covered the soles. He gave a contemptuous grin at the way his old mentor was looking at him with disapproval.

"Got any booze?" Cross grunted, crossing his arms against his chest.

"I'm afraid not," said the older General with a hint of disgust.

Cross gave a heavy scowl. "Fine, I guess I can stay sober for just this night." He riffled in his pocket and pulled out a lighter and cigarette. Lighting it, he stuck the cigarette in his mouth and sucked in deep. When he drew it away, he held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before exhaling slowly, a rush of smoke bellowing out of his mouth. He noticed the way Yeegar was staring at him.

"What?" he questioned as he returned the cigarette to the corner of his mouth. "It's either I drink or smoke."

"As usual, you're making a complete mockery of yourself."

"Said the spider to the fly…"

"Why are you here?" Yeegar persisted with a bit of an edge to his voice. This man always tested his patience, even when he wasn't his apprentice anymore.

Cross gave another drag on the cigarette. "To check in on the brat."

"You mean Allen. Why?"

"Because I felt like it," said Cross with a shrug.

"There's got to be more to it than just that. You are not a simple man, Marian."

"Never claimed I was one."

"Then why are you dodging the subject?"

Cross gave a light snicker. "You ask too many damn questions." Rising to his feet, he brushed aside the curtains and peered outside. In seconds he spotted Allen fast asleep a few dozen feet away. His gaze softened a few shades. "How's the kid holding up?"

Yeegar eyed him peculiarly. "Well enough, I would suppose. He's got a lot of issues that he typically keeps with himself."

"Yeah…they were always the sentimental-type…" Cross remarked mostly to himself as he leaned on his arm, gloved palm pressing against the window. He stared intently at Allen's sleeping form.

Yeegar arched an eyebrow at his strange word choice and reminiscent tone. "Who are you referring to outside of Allen?"

"Allen." Cross mumbled, knowing his former teacher would only assume he was referring to the boy outside as a means of ignoring his question. But he knew better. He knew who he _really_ was referring to.

The boy outside momentarily stirred, jolting up suddenly before relaxing peacefully. Must've been something in his dreams, Cross told himself.

Turning away from the window, Cross sat back down as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. Yeegar appeared impervious as the haze wafted over to him.

"Anyways, I didn't come here for a social call; I just came to check up on—"

"On Allen, I know," Yeegar interrupted. "But why are you so interested in the boy?"

"I have my reasons…"

"And are they your reasons for eluding the Order and making them think you were dead for the past five years?"

Cross refused to answer, staring deeply into the older General's eyes before looking away. A sign that he didn't want to say what only he knew, Yeegar noted. "What is it that you know, Marian?" he asked.

"What makes you ask?" Cross growled back.

"Because I believe he means more to you than you're letting on," Yeegar answered with certainty. "You either wish to exploit something from him or you genuinely have concern for the boy, and though I'd like to think it was the latter, I've known you too long to realize that it is likely the former."

The younger man had to give his mentor credit; the man knew him so well. But a part of him, the smallest portion of his existence, truly cared for the boy. Maybe he cared because of reasons that were too twisted to explain, but he worried about the brat on occasion. And sometimes when his worry grew too strong to be dulled by liquor or women, he would find himself seeking out the scrawny brat that was the Musician's son to check up on him. This had been such an occasion.

Offering his teacher a smirk, Cross callously said, "You think too much into things, Yeegar."

"And so do you."

The response caught the younger General by surprise, one that he quickly stifled before it could be noticed. Laughing at the response he replied, "What game are we playing at?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"I'm not the one who keeps on trying to interrogate a fellow comrade."

"Ah, well you see, one can't help but question," Yeegar sighed, leaning back. "Your random appearance here grants me the right to, as you say, 'interrogate a fellow comrade'."

Cross shook his head with amusement. He breathed out another breath of smoke before grinding the remaining cigarette on the table where the ash had fallen from the end. Yeegar made his disapproval clear and Cross relished it. He always enjoyed pushing the man's limits, seeing how far he could go before he cracked.

Rising to his feet, he murmured something to the golem still perched on his shoulder before saying aloud to Yeegar, "Tim's going to stay and keep an eye on the stupid brat for me." It was a statement rather than a question waiting for approval.

"I don't see how I could stop it from staying," Yeegar pointed out. Unlike most golem, Timcanpy was able to repair itself after being destroyed, even if it was reduced to several hundred pieces. Destroying it would be pointless.

As Cross made his way to the door, he pulled it open and stopped, peering over his shoulder at Yeegar. "Take good care of him, sir. He's got a lot going for him."

Yeegar was surprised at the hints of concern in his voice. It was honestly strange, and caught him off guard. He mastered his surprise quickly before he assured, "I will do my best."

"Good," Cross grunted. "He should turn out half-way decent now if he's training under you."

The older man smiled at the unintentional complement. Cross bid the man a silent farewell as he stepped out into the night, his golem soon flying over to where Allen slept, nestling contently in his hair. Allen gave a louder snore, one that made the golem flutter momentarily over his head before returning back down.

Cross gave a snort. "Kid could sleep through hell and wouldn't even realize it."

He chuckled to himself as he retraced his steps, not knowing when he would actually meet the kid again not under the cover of darkness. Soon or not so soon. Either way, they would meet again. Their roles in this play were too tightly entwined.

* * *

Allen stood and stared at the birds that flew overhead after he finished his five mile run the next morning. Though he was sweaty and aching with exhaustion, he took the time to appreciate the little things, stuff that people often take for granted. More often than naught he fell into that category on any typical day, but on a few rare occasions he'd take one figurative step back and just enjoy what was there in front of him.

He watched the cluster of average looking birds pass by, scuttling along at their leisurely pace. But they weren't what held his attention. It was the small bird with a white breast, small head with a sharp beak and grey feathers speckled with white. The wings were black as night and its eyes were as red as a burnt ember. It soared as though it owned the sky, talons clicking as it clenched its feet, wings showing a powerful set of muscles as it flew. Though the bird was small in size, it could surely pack a punch if necessary, Allen mused.

As it circled up above him, Allen was vaguely aware of his teacher approaching, the man coming to a stop beside him. He followed Allen's gaze, squinting his eyes to make out what he was looking at.

"Oh yes…a black-winged kite, if I do recall…" Yeegar remarked thoughtfully, watching the bird angle off into the distance. "Not a too common sight to see here in Denmark."

"Birds are interesting creatures," Allen replied as he walked away, stretching his arms as he did so.

"Yes, one could only imagine what they're thinking inside their heads whenever they look down and see us," said the old General, shifting his gaze to Allen as he added, "You know, the Celtics used to believe that birds symbolized the transition between life and death."

"Perhaps someone has died then." Allen sighed, not too pleased with his own statement.

"It's all just superstition. Whether you choose to believe that is up to you, but, I do say there are always plenty of birds out there."

"I'm not superstitious, but it's an interesting view. You must know a lot."

Yeegar chuckled fondly, that rich laugh that rumbled deep in his chest. "A little bit of this, and a little bit of that. I was a teacher after all."

"I bet your students adored you." Allen smiled. What child wouldn't want to have a teacher like General Yeegar?

A flicker of sorrow was quickly caught smoldering in the old man's grey eyes. Allen's smile dampened at the sight and he soon realized that, just as he had his own demons, his mentor harbored some as well, ones that still pestered his heart.

He empathized with him greatly. Running a hand through his hair, he gave a sigh that transformed into a shy smile. Lowering his hand from his scalp, Allen rested a placating palm on the man's stiff shoulder. "You don't have to say anything. I understand."

And he did. Maybe not completely, but he did understand. Pain like that just doesn't go away, even as the years go by.

Some things are just never meant to heal.

His empathy touched the man, his eyes crinkling with sorrow, tears welling up briefly. Yeegar touched his student on his shoulder with a firm hand, conveying his gratitude through touch rather than words. Allen understood and could hear them loud and clear. The trouble of their pasts still haunted their futures.

Thierry soon came up to him with his pack on his back. "The team is hitched and ready to go, sir."

Yeegar withdrew his hand from Allen's shoulder and nodded to Thierry. "We'll be there soon."

"Where are we going?" Allen asked as Thierry began walking away, heading down a path to the right. "Where is he going?"

"Word has come to us saying there is akuma activity in one of the nearby villages. Thierry is going to report it to Headquarters and rendezvous with us later."

"Akuma?" A hint of nervousness could be detected in his tone, one that General Yeegar chose to ignore.

"Yes, and if the story holds true, I want you to take care of it."

Before he had any room for argument, Yeegar began heading off to the carriage, beckoning Allen to follow. The boy stood there locked in apprehension. How could his mentor ask him to do such a thing? He wasn't ready, didn't know how to activate his anti-akuma weapon with ease.

But then how could he? He hadn't had any practice on the matter. At least, not until now.

Sucking up his nerves and mustering up whatever courage rested inside him, Allen followed the General into the carriage, residing with the fact that he might have to face the very creatures he was destined to destroy.

* * *

She reveled in all the chaos and destruction that was sowing around her. She paraded around the miserable little town with a bounce in her step, twirling around a pumpkin topped umbrella that professed its discontent thoroughly. But its words fell on deaf ears, the young girl humming a merrily little tune that, to her, went well with the screams that were rising in the air.

And yet…despite all the happiness she felt in that moment as her pack of akuma gave her hell, she still felt sad and lonely. After eighteen years she still felt this way.

_He_ wasn't there to be by her side anymore. _He _wasn't there to follow her around in that adoringly cute way of his, asking her several questions that were varying in nature but all holding the same utterance of despair.

The first few years she cursed his name, venting out the anger she felt for his betrayal to all those around her, even if it was the Earl or the new Noah that were beginning to repopulate. They'd just look at her oddly and questioned her about it. She never gave them a straight answer though. But whenever she struck the Earl, he never once struck back, understanding well why she was so angry. Because he understood how much she cared for him…and how much she loved him.

As time went on, and she discarded her previous form in favor of a younger version, her anger turned to somber despair, much as the Duke of Time had felt during the beginning years of the 14th's desertion and subsequent death. Those times had been hard, especially when she'd find herself searching for his room only to somehow not be able to locate it.

And then there was now. Now she just felt bitter for his distant memory, perhaps lonely at times much like this. Most of her had moved on by now and the part of her that hadn't was locked in her heart in a place only she could reach.

But whenever she was down in the dumps, demolishing an entire town usually cheered her up. _Usually_.

Sighing, Road mustered up a grin as a few town's folk ran past her, oblivious to her presence. She soon sicced a couple of akuma on the running citizens, reducing them to a pile of mindless dust moments later. The sight furthered her devilish grin.

Wishing to get an aerial view, she tossed the umbrella up and daintily sat on it when it came spiraling down. Her weight, though light it may be, caused the animate object to vehemently protest, words that didn't register with the supposedly teenage girl. She ordered it to fly higher and grudgingly it complied, rising until she was a dozen or so feet above the rooftops. There she had a 360 view of what was going on all around her. And it made her heart dance with joy.

"If he was still here he would've told me to smile at something less morbid…" she commented lightly to herself, her yearning for his presence rising once more. She gave a softer, sadder smile at the remembrance. He always said silly things like that.

As her eyes scanned the area, the sight of a carriage drawn by four white horses couldn't help but catch her attention. Curious, Road focused her attention on the vehicle as it came to a stop in the epicenter of the chaos, the horses snorting and stomping anxiously. The occupants soon exited the carriage and to her surprise she found them to be Exorcists. She could feel the hum of their Innocence, even from this far. She ordered the umbrella to go down for a closer look.

Road stepped lightly on the roof as she hopped off the umbrella, hiding behind a pillar and peeking down at her enemies. Both had white hair, but one of them was clearly an old geezer judging by the way he looked facially and the growing stiffness in his movements. The other was much younger, hair longer and drawn back in a flowing ponytail. He glanced around nervously, his steps as cautious as his silver gaze.

Those pale eyes captivated her the moment she saw them, his appearance intriguing her. He looked like _him_…sort of. It wasn't the hair or the color of his eyes that didn't make him look like him; it was the shape of his face in general, his stature somewhat smaller. His face was rounder, as were his eyes, but his nose and mouth were the same. If age did its trick, then the roundness would go away as he got older, turning to the sharp face that she secretly ached to see on an annually basis.

_He_ was there, in the flesh. Her unfaithful musician was there, with his appearance somehow turned backed by time and altered drastically.

Desire nearly compelled her to go to him, to wrap her arms around his waist and nestle her cheek into his chest, like she use to whenever she needed his comfort. But rationality and the chattering umbrella told her she shouldn't. Because the young man down there was an Exorcist, which therefore made him her enemy. And he really wasn't the person she could say had her devotion, her love. He just looked like him in a way that border lined resemblance, and not as a carbon copy like the Noah of Pleasure.

Was seeing Tyki every day, feeling that remorse, what _he_ felt whenever he saw the Earl?

Once again fate was cruel to the relationship between her and the rogue Noah.

* * *

Allen treaded behind his mentor with nervous apprehension, gaze shifting rapidly amongst the ruined scenery. It was quiet, something that was a clear indicator that something was wrong.

Buildings were in dismal and the streets were littered with ash and the occasional body that was locked in shock, mindlessly muttering things that made no sense. The sky was dark with smoke, the atmosphere itself hazy with sorrow. The scene tore at Allen's heart.

"Why's it so quiet, sir?" he asked softly.

"I don't know, but there are definitely akuma here. Can you feel them?"

"I'm not sure," his reply came nervously. He scanned the area, feeling this sense of foreboding that he assumed Yeegar was referring to.

When he looked back to his left, a strange sensation consumed his left eye, suddenly able to see some grotesque being weeping over the head of a crouched girl who cried silently into her crossed arms. He stopped mid-step, staring fixedly at the girl.

"What the…?" he mumbled to himself, wavering on what he should do. But then the girl looked up and her entire face twisted monstrously.

Allen took a step back, appalled. "G-General!"

Yeegar stopped, peering over his shoulder to see Allen quivering in fear as a child morphed into an oversized akuma, cannons pointed straight at him. The General shook the chains free from his forearms, gripping the slack tightly. But instead of attacking, he waited, curious to see what the boy would do other than just stand there.

When Allen did nothing but gawk, the General allowed his frustration to show as he barked, "Dammit, Allen! You're an Exorcist; destroy that akuma like you are meant to!"

Allen shifted his gaze briefly to Yeegar then back at the akuma, swallowing nervously. "But I don't know how to activate my anti-akuma weapon on my own!"

"Yes you do!" countered Yeegar. "Look inside yourself, and find that part of you that lays in waiting, the part of you that wishes to heed your command. Find it and you can activate your Innocence!"

The boy wasn't sure he was able to do that but he tried anyway. He searched himself as the akuma charged its attack, desperate to find this feeling that Yeegar spoke of. He felt something inside him, some kind of feeling that snapped at him when he tried to approach it. He recoiled from it and was soon immersed by another feeling, this one filling him with warmth and wrapping his consciousness with security. It was protecting him, unbidden and dutiful. It was then that he found what he was looking for.

Heaviness weighed down his chest and his head. He concentrated, struggling to beckon the power to come forth. _This time…let's do this together, _he told it, coaxing the power he had felt on a couple occasions before to manifest this time on actual command rather than instinctual reaction.

Yeegar watched with pride as Allen jumped forward as the akuma prepared the fire, his left arm morphing into a large silver claw, talons flexing fretfully as he swiped out at the akuma. He landed in a crouch, head bowed as he stared at his arm softly and thanked it for listening to his plea. The akuma soon exploded moments later, showering them in spectacles of light.

Allen watched as the thing that had been attached to the akuma floated away, freed from the chains that once bound it to sorrow. The thing thanked him tearfully and he couldn't help but smile.

When he looked back to his teacher, his smile was erased as he caught sight of another spirit hovering over a middle aged man, the person heading for the older Exorcist.

"General, behind you!" he shouted, sending the man into action.

The older man reacted with the grace of a warrior, sending one of his chains into the man's chest, destroying him instantly. Again the thing that Allen saw attention the man rose heavenward, saying beautifully sad words of gratitude. Allen could only gap. Were those souls he was seeing? It was the only reasonable explanation he could come up with.

Yeegar looked back to his pupil, nearly startled out of his skin at the sight of the boy's left eye. The once white of his eye was now black, two blood red rings serving as his iris and pupil. Allen didn't seem to be aware of the strange look he was getting from the General, looking back and forth frantically.

He pointed to the right. "There are a few akuma over there, just on the other side of this house."

"How do you know this?" Yeegar asked warily.

"I can see their souls," Allen blurted out as if it were obvious. Wildly gesturing to the right again, he began running off in the same direction shouting, "Come on!"

Yeegar did not heed his student's words right away, rooted on the spot. He stared at Allen's receding back, processing what he had heard. Souls of the akuma? How could he even see such a thing? Was it because of the scar that marred the left side of his face, branding him with a pentacle?

Desperate questions that needed desperate answers. That's what they were.

Deciding that the present wasn't a time to ponder such notions, Yeegar followed after Allen, only to look up to the left before he did. He could've sworn he caught movement from up above. Probably his old eyes playing tricks on him, he assured himself.

* * *

Road followed the pair of Exorcists with the grace of any good predator, trailing them from the safety of the roof tops. Soon the two split up, leaving her to follow Allen. The youth with white hair intrigued her, more than any Exorcist had in years. She yearned to get a closer look of him, finding his mannerisms reminding her more and more of the 14th. The constant reminder made her anxious and despairing.

Sitting upon the ledge, daringly hoping he would take notice of her, the eldest Noah watched with fixation. Her chin was nestled into her palm, arm propped on her knee while her legs remained crossed. Her face was blank, but a hint of delight shone in her violet eyes. She enjoyed watching the boy fight.

The young Exorcist moved with a clumsy sort of grace, floundering repeatedly whenever he stumbled to a careless stop. Wildly he swung, though his blows were steadily becoming more refined and less brutish. His mouth was drawn back in a sad frown as he destroyed akuma after akuma, staring forlornly up at the sky as soon as the creatures exploded. Road wondered what he saw, why he cared to look every single time.

He was soon right below her, so close yet so far away. Road couldn't stand the distance any longer. She craved to meet him, to see up close just why he reminded her of the fallen Noah. She was too far away to make a proper assumption.

Waiting for him to pass, the Noah of Dreams jumped down to the ground, landing without sound. Calling out to an akuma with her mind, she ordered it to come up and attack her from behind. The creature profusely refused to do such a thing until she threatened to make it explode. The monster reluctantly agreed, drifting as expected up towards her from her backside. Road gave a sinister smile before falling into the role of the unfortunate bystander.

Her scream worked like a charm, easily garnering his attention. Swiftly he spun around, eyes sharp and keen as he vaulted forward. Road watched him spring forward as she pathetically crumpled to her knees. Her eyes grew wide as he leaped past, momentarily glancing at her before swinging at the akuma bait.

In that one glance she knew who he was, why he resembled the 14th and reminded her of him.

She could see them both in that youth; her beloved musician and his whore of a doll. The Exorcist was their illegitimate son.

This revelation left her furious.

Allen destroyed the akuma with ease that left him feeling confident, proud even now that he was able to save at least one person. Everyone else seemed to have fled or was killed. Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he exhaled a long sigh. He turned back and offered the young girl a half-hearted smile.

"You ok?" he asked her, suddenly noticing the strange way she was looking at him.

She shook the look away forcefully. "Y-Yes," she meekly stuttered. "Thank you, mister."

"No problem," Allen assured, warming up to the whole Exorcist gig. Saving just one person made a bit of difference, at least to him it did.

The girl smiled weakly, getting to her feet and brushing the dust and dirt from her skirt. When she stood back up, she found him watching her intently. It made her even more enraged, but she dare not let it show on her face. He would only ask questions she did not wish to answer. Or could not.

When the young man's name was called, Road used his lapse of attention to escape, fading into the shadows of the buildings. Quickly she moved away, clutching at her heart as she did so. She watched him stand there in puzzlement before following the call of the other voice, forgetting all about their encounter as he ran off. But Road didn't, couldn't.

Her heart fluttered with the beats of hate and despair.

She had to report this to the Earl.

The bastard child he had presumed to be dead was in fact very much alive.

And very much a threat.

* * *

Allen found General Yeegar battling amidst an akuma with a more refined shape, with a humanoid build but a wolfish face, hands and feet clawed. The monster swiped out at the General, the blow diverted by one of his chains. Yeegar spun the other length of chain over his head, building up a decent amount of momentum before swinging forward, his strength powering the attack.

"Bring forth salvation to this tormented akuma's soul!" he cried as his attack connected, ripping the machinery apart and effectively destroying it.

Allen watched the soul that once inhabited the mechanical shell and smiled. He silently wished it peace wherever souls of the dead went.

Panting and wheezing from exhaustion, Yeegar straightened himself up as his anti-akuma weapon returned to their place wrapped snuggly around his forearms. His black and gold trimmed mantle fell over his arms as he lowered them to his sides. He turned to Allen and a proud smile lit up his face.

"You did well, Allen." Yeegar praised, watching as his anti-akuma deactivated and reverted back to its dormant state. His left eye also turned back to normal, signaling the absence of akuma in the immediate vicinity.

Allen nodded, appreciating the compliment.

"But, for next time, try not to get caught up in your fear," instructed Yeegar. "I expect you will encounter far more devastating scenarios than the one you faced today."

The wise words drained some of the color from Allen's face. How could there be anything worse than having part of a town destroyed? Nervously he bowed formally, stuttering out a small, "Y-Yes, General."

The General's eyes softened in sympathy. It pained him to see someone so young have to witness the hardships of battle.

"Come," he said eventually. "We must leave and regroup with Thierry."

Allen nodded and followed behind his mentor, keeping close. He looked at some of the broken buildings that lined the street, rubble strewn about the road. In the distance far behind him he could hear the soft murmurs of activity. He wondered if anyone had realized what they had done, if they were aware that their town had been saved by them. If not, there was always that girl he had saved. She would know of what they did. And that was good enough for him.

Maybe…being an Exorcist wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

* * *

Narein sat silently on a wooden chair situated inside one of the tents, leaning on his open hand. His tan Finder coat remained draped on his shoulders, allowing for the bandaged wound at his torso to breathe. He had taken a terrible fall after the town they were currently settled in was attacked by akuma, bruising his ribs and breaking a couple of his fingers.

If an Exorcist on his way to Sweden hadn't stopped by when they had, all of them would've been as good as dead by now. Still, not everyone could've been saved, and the sight of so many of his comrades having been reduced to ash left the young man shaken. He sat in his chair and refused to share a word. It was clear to the more experienced Finders with him that he was in shock.

"Narein," Kie softly called as he approached, sporting a few bandages and a broken arm. "Are you alright?"

The youth briefly looked at him before staring back at nothing.

Maosa, seated upon the ground whittling an elephant out of a block of wood, looked at his longtime friend with a frown. "What a stupid question to ask, Kie."

"Well I don't know what to do," sighed Kie, besides himself. Turning back to Narein, the older male came up to him and rested a hand on his shoulder. "You're duty here is over. If you'd like, we can have you escorted over to General Yeegar, where your friend is."

His words grabbed the young Indian's attention. A soft, almost reminiscent smile brought life to his face.

"I wonder how he's doing…" Narein mumbled to himself.

Maosa set aside his partially whittled elephant and rose to his feet, gesturing for Kie to follow him as he exited the tent. Now alone, Narein vaguely listened to their murmurings before focusing all of his attention on Allen. He wondered what his best friend was doing, what about him had changed after nearly two months of being away from each other, and whether he was still upset with him for what he said. He wouldn't blame him if he was.

This job was a lot harder than he thought it'd be. He never imagined he'd see so much death, especially to those who he considered his friends. It was too much. He was drowning in it, desperately in need of air.

Perhaps…seeing Allen again will save him from spiraling further down into crippling despair.

* * *

_Author's Note: The next chapter will be longer, I promise. _

_Would you like to see a prequel to this story? Let me know if you would, because I never planned to shed light on the events that happened before the beginning of this story because my prequel will have to get to a point that'll end up being similar to what was being done in Allen the Musician's Path to Betrayal _

_The prequel, if written, won't be vital to understanding this story so it doesn't have to be made. It will be though if people wish to read it. I'm just in the mood to write a 14__th__ story and I want to see if anyone wishes that story to be a prequel to this or not._


	29. Brothers

Ch. 28

'_Lean on me, when you're not strong_

_And I'll be your friend_

_I'll help you carry on_

_For it won't be long_

'_Til I'm gonna need_

_Someday to lean on'_

_-Bill Withers: Lean On Me_

Two months into his training left Allen seeing some notable changes to his physique. For one thing his daily exercises weren't much of a chore anymore. Though running ten miles still had its difficulty, it was starting to get easier to handle, the muscles all along his legs strengthening more and more with each day. The spars with General Yeegar, in spite of the fact that he never actually won, did well to strengthen up his core. He was proud to say that, though not highly defined, his body was now mildly toned.

Practices in penmanship and juggling did well to rehabilitate his left arm, his range of motion having returned to its fullest and his sense of feeling, for the most part, there. He was now capable of summoning his Innocence on command now, though there were instances where it proved to be a challenge, especially when he was weary or hungry.

They never stayed in one place for too long, and now the group found themselves deep in the countryside of France, traveling along the Garonne River. It was a beautiful spring day, the hills a rolling mass of green and the sky an endless sea of blue. A gentle breeze caressed the scenery, wafting over tall blades of grass. Birds leant their voices to the air, weaving together a symphony of chirps and whistles.

Allen stood tensed on a large stepping stone that resided in the river, stripped down to his pants, the ends rolled up to his knees. He stared intensely at General Yeegar as he stood on the bank, face unreadable. The man stood solidly and firmly, not giving anything away as he sent one of his chains flying at Allen with lightning fast reflexes.

Before the weapon had any time to connect, Allen jumped to another stepping stone, toes wrapping around the edges so he wouldn't slip on the slick surface. Yeegar retaliated with his other stream of chain, leaving Allen to hop away quickly. The boy leaped onto another stone, landing with his hands; it was his big mistake.

The chain weaved around his ankles and yanked back, causing him to slip. Wavering, gravity took hold and Allen slipped into the shallow end of the river. He lay sprawled in the water for a moment before pushing himself up, grimacing. His body ached from all the bruises he had accumulated from falling or slipping. A cluster of them ran along his right arm from when he had struck the rocks one too many times.

Yeegar exhaled slowly, his anti-akuma weapon back to their proper place wrapped around his arms. "That's enough for today. I suggest you go clean that mud off your face."

Allen nodded, mopping up some of the sloshy dirt with his hands. He strode out of the water and past Yeegar, moving to the towel that was hanging on a thin tree branch beside his shirt, vest, boots and neck tie. The General watched him, reflecting on his pupil's change.

As time went on, the bits of anger, self-loathing, and rebellion had completely disappeared. What stood before him now was a young man who did anything he was told to without question, full of smiles and kind words. He never allowed himself to visibly get frustrated, always nodding when he couldn't trust his voice. Strong emotions such as anger or sorrow hardly took a hold of him, feelings such a joy and respect predominant in the lad's attitude.

Some might find this kind of change to be a blessing, a Godsend even. But it saddened General Yeegar somewhat, because he knew that it really wasn't him that changed, just his mannerisms. The pieces of raw emotion he had caught sight of the first few weeks had been fully suppressed for reasons he still didn't understand.

Allen was wiping away the last of the dirt that clung to his face when he stopped, suddenly alert. Yeegar grew tense at the sight; he feared the worse. He had learned that Allen was capable of detecting the presence of akuma at a certain distance, a fact he had reported to Chief Komui.

The man was just as perplexed as he was upon hearing such news, urging the General to ask Allen about it. It only resulted with a pale-faced and wide-eyed Allen who merely shrugged in response. It was obvious he knew something that he wasn't willing to share. He never brought up the subject again.

"Allen, what is it?" asked Yeegar as he watched Allen perk up, hearing something that his fading hearing couldn't detect.

Allen didn't answer him directly, but the way his face lit up with a smile was telltale that it was something good.

The General watched the young teen wave profusely at the approaching figure he was having trouble making out before sprinting forward. He followed the boy at a much more subdued pace, amused at the way Allen came up to the young Finder that was coming their way and tackled him to the ground. The two boys wrestled, their affection for one another evident in their laughter.

"Narein!" Allen cried in joy, giggling giddily as the older boy pushed his head back away from his.

"It's good to see you again," Narein chuckled, pushing Allen further away from him. A strange look flickered in his caramel brown eyes, one that Allen tried to pretend he hadn't seen.

Yeegar allowed them to have their little moment before clearing his throat, grabbing the two boys' attention. Allen immediately shot to his feet, pulling Narein up on his. The pair stood side by side, looking at the General with varying gazes. Allen was clearly thrilled, unable to keep a small smile from creeping up on his lips. Narein, on the other hand, carried a weather-beaten, somber look, face professional and serious.

Narein picked up the small luggage case that had been previously strewn in the grass, leveling his tired eyes on the Exorcist General. He bowed respectively to the man. "My name is Narein sir, and I was sent by my superior to become a member of your party. It relieves me to finally be here with you, General."

"Ah, yes…so you're the lad that Thierry spoke of. I have to say I didn't hear the end of it when Allen learned you were coming."

Narein gave a wan smile. "You aren't easy to follow, General. I must've lost track of you at least three times."

"It comes with years of caution," Yeegar easily supplied, aware that something was bothering the young Finder. "Come on, it's getting close to when we have lunch, it would make me happy to have you dine with us."

The young man gave a meek nod, trailing behind General Yeegar to the parked coach, Allen darting away to retrieve his garments. Once he had shoved back on his shirt and vest, tying his ribbon around the collar, and shoving on his boots he returned to his friend side. He chatted amiably about nonsense, Narein mindlessly nodding and smiling.

His face was so tired, so haunted, Yeegar noted as he began preparing some sandwiches for them all. The General observed the two silently from the corner of his eye, noticing the way Allen did most of the talking while Narein merely listened. A solemn look had hardened in his eyes, a look that suggested to Yeegar that he was troubled, shaken by things he had seen. Did Allen realize this or was he totally oblivious to it?

"How long have you two known each other?" Yeegar asked, hoping it would strike up some stimulating conversation.

"Nearly nine years. We grew up together in the circus," Narein replied, leaning forward wearily. He rested his chin on his palms, a distant look glazing his eyes as he stared off into space.

Allen gave a troubled frown, face becoming a mask of worry. "Narein?" he called cautiously, repeating his name a few more times.

The young man eventually snapped out of whatever world he was in and noticed the way Allen and General Yeegar were staring at him. Their concern was a little unnerving.

"Sorry," he apologized softly. He exhaled a shaky breath, running a hand through his shaggy hair.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" Allen asked, voice oozing with his concern.

"I…I don't want to talk about it…" he confessed, exiting the vehicle without another word.

Allen moved to follow, only to have the calloused hand from General Yeegar restrain him from further motion. He looked to the man, puzzled.

"Leave him be," Yeegar soothed tenderly. "Your friend just needs time. It seems whatever he's witnessed has shook him rather profoundly."

Allen made a thoughtful noise, settling back down at his spot, all the while wondering what it was that had change Narein.

And whether or not Narein having joined as a Finder was a good thing after all.

* * *

A week and a half passed with Narein keeping mostly to himself, observing Allen train with General Yeegar. He marveled at the way his best friend handled himself, how much more confident he seemed. He held himself with pride and refinement, unashamed of who or what he was. Narein envied that, and the way he could keep a smile on his face.

He seemed so innocent, so carefree now. The longer he stayed under the General's guiding wing, the more sheltered he'd become. And the more sheltered he became the more devastated he would feel upon truly seeing the horrible carnage of war. Would he be irreparably damaged just as he was now?

Narein hated to admit it, but sometimes he wished he was back at the circus, away from the world that Allen truly belonged in.

This wasn't where he belonged; but there was no turning back.

It wasn't hard for Allen to note the misery that was making his best friend bear dark circles under his eyes. He also noticed, with worry, that he was appearing much more gaunt and paler than usual. When was the last time he ate? Allen couldn't remember when and grew even more fretful. Why was his friend wasting away? Had something so horrid happen to damage the once vibrant spirit of his childhood friend?

Though dying to know the reasons behind his questions, Allen was no stranger to debilitating traumas and therefore never pressed him for answers. On some occasions, when he wasn't busy training, he would simply sit beside Narein and the two would talk, or not, depending on either of their moods. Usually when they did, their conversations were short and trivial, but comforting all the same.

Another week had gone by before the dam that kept away all of Narein's pint up emotions finally collapsed.

It was at night and Allen was getting himself settled for yet another night sleeping outside. Honestly it didn't bother him, the cool summer nights refreshing to his seemingly perpetually aching body. Timcanpy took his usual place nestled in his hair, a thing that Allen had grown use to ever since the round creature had stayed by his side in the something odd months it had been with him. The presence was strangely comforting.

He was just dozing off when he heard his friend's scream pierce the air, stirring everything in the surrounding area. Allen instinctively shot up, much to the displeasure of the golden golem now fluttering over his head. He saw the faint light of the gas lamp inside the General's coach flicker on before he emerged out into the night. A look of concern knitted his brow as he looked to Allen questionably.

The boy shrugged, rising slowly. His eyes drifted over to the small tent that Narein slept in; another bone chilling scream permeated the stifled silence. The sound was enough to spur Allen forward, the teen rushing toward the tent with a racing heart that beat rapidly in his chest. He forced himself inside, finding his friend tossing and turning violently, clawing at his eyes with raw finger tips.

"Narein!" hollered Allen, in distress. He fell beside him, roughly shaking his shoulder. Repeatedly he called out to him, vainly hoping his attempts would be met with success.

Yeegar watched the two childhood friends at a polite distance outside the boy's tent, his face solemn. Wordlessly he gestured the two curious Finder's away, wishing to give them some privacy during this delicate situation.

Eventually the young man awoke, blinking slowly as he sat up. Sweat dampened his bangs and made them stick to his forehead. Angry red marks trailed half of his face, starting from his brow and ending at his cheeks. He seemed oblivious to it as he shook from the after effects of what Allen presumed to be a nightmare.

"Narein," Allen sighed in relief. He moved to pull him into a hug but his attempt was only rewarded with a forceful shove.

Narein looked at him with a gaze filled with terror.

"Stay away from me!" he cried, a feverish glint flashing in his wide eyes.

Allen gaped in disbelief. He tried to hug him again, this time earning a punch that was easily caught. Allen held Narein's fist in his left hand, wrapping his gnarled fingers over his friend's bandaged knuckles. His gaze was even with Narein's, a sad frown set upon his lips. What was wrong with his best friend?

Narein trembled in what could only be fear, staring wide-eyed at Allen. He shrank down, unable to keep his gaze from Allen's. Biting his bottom lip, tears welled up in his panicked eyes. Eventually he broke down, sobbing into his own lap as he uttered words that were incoherent and slurred at best.

"I…I thought…so many…too many…they were everywhere," he hiccupped, shoulders shaking. His speech was disjointed and Allen couldn't understand what he was saying. "I thought you…I don't know…kill…death…too much, oh too much!"

Allen let his hand release Narein's fist, lamely lowering his arm to his side. His morose eyes stared at Narein as he cried, now hugging himself as he rocked back and forth. He didn't know what to do, couldn't see how his words would have any effect.

He sent a pleading glance over to the General, who gestured for Allen to vacate the tent with a tilt of his head. Numbly he stepped out, immediately replaced by the Finders Thierry and Andrew.

Sighing sadly, he returned his eyes to Yeegar as he said, "This has something to do with his first mission, doesn't it."

"Narein…he is still young, having not been accustomed to the ways of a Finder. It was unfortunate that his first mission should end with so much death. What he has seen will probably haunt for a very long time, maybe for the rest of his life."

His words left Allen feeling nothing but anguish.

Clenching his hands in misery, Allen broke the gaze by looking down at his feet. Inwardly he berated himself for ever having allowed Narein the chance of joining him on this insane path. But it wasn't like he could've talked him out of it; his friend had sworn he would follow even if he was refused the right to come.

Still…Allen owed him a favor. He had risked everything just to be at his side. Now it was his turn to return the favor.

Looking back up at the General, a hint of determination glowed in his silver eyes. "I won't give up on Narein," he declared, "Even if it takes me forever, I will make this right."

Yeegar stifled a smile at the boy's maturity. He would make a fine General one day, if he ever happened to rise to such a position.

"Then go to him. If there is anything you need, you only have to ask."

Allen nodded and returned to his friend's tent. For a moment General Yeegar stared at the pale fabric, able to catch soft snippets from its occupants. He couldn't hear what they were saying exactly, but decided it was probably for the best that he didn't.

Instead he retired to his coach, where a single gas lamp sat illuminated on some cabinet space. Yeegar took a seat on the futon, eyes focused on a box he had pulled out right when he was preparing for bed.

Its contents included a stylized Exorcist uniform, finely trimmed in silver thread and adorned with buttons made with actual silver. Upon one of them he was sure to find the boy's name inscribed on the back. The coat itself was long, most likely to go down to his ankles, with a hood attached. It was included for probably the most obvious reason.

The package had come in a few weeks ago and something was keeping him back from giving it to Allen. Perhaps he had been waiting for something extraordinary to happen that would deem him worthy of wearing such a coat or maybe he was hesitant to let this bond between them go.

Allen would most likely his last apprentice, and letting that go wasn't as easy as he thought. It reminded him just what little precious time he had left in the world, and he wasn't about to let Allen go until he was sure he was ready.

Until he proved to him that he was ready to be considered a full-fledged Exorcist.

And something told him that that wasn't too far away.

* * *

The first week Allen spent caring for Narein found the young Finder with a persistent fever that failed to break. This fact worried him, but by the assurances of Thierry and Andrew, it was just a side effect of his constant stress and worry and that it would go away in time. This reassured him to a degree, but it did not dampen the intensity in which he took care of his friend. In fact, it made him dote on Narein more.

His constant care had annoyed Narein at first, but after the second day of enduring the effects of a fever, he welcomed the care with open arms. Allen dabbed his face clean of the sweat that would accumulate and periodically place a cool cloth on his forehead. He fed him warm broths and delicate soups, even helped him drink water from a nearby canteen.

Whenever he needed him, he was there and that was strangely reassuring.

So, despite his ill health and tormented conscience, he eventually told Allen the events of his first mission in bits and pieces. He knew it was the only way to truly recover from both his illness and who he had become. He spoke of an ambush by several akuma, the death of well over half his company at their hands. Many buildings had been destroyed, some of the rubble having crushed a few of his comrades as well as some of the town's people. It had been a warzone, no doubt about it.

As he relayed his story to Allen, he noticed the way his eyes would change at his words. A pained, almost frightened look ghosted his pale silver eyes, his face struggling to remain neutral in spite of the telltale twitches of remorse. He never gave any clear sign that he had had enough listening, silently taking in whatever was said. Occasionally he'd throw in a word or two, but for the most part he sat and listened.

"I'm sorry you had to go through something like that," said Allen quietly after Narein had finally finished sharing his story, sitting back on his legs.

"So am I. I never expected it to be so brutal. Life…is such a fleeting thing." Narein drifted his eyes up to Allen's face as he added, "That's why I hope you can forgive me for what I said before we departed. I never meant—"

"I know." Allen cut in. "The truth is, Narein, I'm glad you came with me. I appreciate everything you've done for me, I truly do. But it's not too late for you to simply leave. I'm sure Chief Komui would understand if you wanted to return home back to the circus."

Narein gave a wan smile. "It's not like the thought hasn't occurred to me. But I can't go back on a promise."

"You didn't promise me anything…"

"Yes I did. I promised to bring you back home all in one piece and that's what I intend to do. If I have to endure such hardships just so that I can stick to my promise, then so be it. I'd do anything for you, my brother."

His endearing words brought a small smile to Allen's face. He had never had any siblings, so the children of the circus mostly became his playmates. But the bond between Allen and Narein had been something that went into the boundaries of siblinghood.

Though neither were related by blood or even looked the same, a silent understanding had passed between them that they were brothers in every other sense of the word. To hear it actually spoken made it feel as though it were actually true.

"And I you, brother." Allen said in return, offering his human hand to his best friend.

Narein gave it a tight squeeze, his face melting into exhaustion.

Allen realized he'd have to leave his friend soon to rest. As he made to move away, Narein once more squeezed his hand, causing Allen to return his attention to him. An almost desperate look was on his face as he fought off his exhaustion for just a little longer.

"Allen," he murmured, tongue starting to feel heavy and cumbersome. "I want you to remember that, no matter how hard or how impossible something may feel during one moment, it always gets better as time goes on. You may find yourself losing hope someday, and when you do, just remember that the next day is a new day, one that you just have to keep walking in. And one day you'll look back and realize that you survived. You may not know how, but you did."

The Exorcist-in-training gave a crooked grin. "Does this come from personal experience?"

Allen's grin was returned with a smile as Narein closed his eyes, laying back. "I guess…you can say that…"

Soon after Narein had drifted off to sleep, his hand going slack in Allen's grip. He gently released it, allowing it to fall back to his side. For a while he simply stood there, listening to Narein's breathing shallow out and watching his chest rise and fall with the rhythms of his breath. It seemed he was getting better, but only time would tell if his care was to be met with success.

Exhaling a sigh, Allen soon left Narein's tent, suddenly feeling as if he was entering a whole other world, one that was deceivingly happy and carefree but deep down was truly dark and sinister. It was a world he was starting to despise. But it was also one he was also starting to accept.

There's no running from a world of black and white.

* * *

_Author's Note: I know I said this chapter was supposed to be longer, but I decided to split it into another chapter or two. I'm very unwilling to move to what I have planned, but there's no avoiding it when I don't have any more ideas for this current part of the story. In fact, this chapter is mostly filler and its only purpose to put off what I have in store for what I believe will be the next chapter. It may seem like I'm rushing, but please don't hate me for it. It's simply how I'm pacing the story._

_Don't worry if you don't understand what I'm talking about. I'll explain it more at the end of the next chapter. I just don't want to give anything away._

_Oh, and, LaraOXM, I hope you didn't mind that I didn't have you beta this. (Which, by the way, has agreed to be the new beta for the story.) _


	30. Coward At Heart

Ch. 29

_'Weep for yourself, my man,_

_You'll never be what is in your heart_

_Weep Little Lion Man,_

_You're not as brave as you were at the start_

_Rate yourself and rake yourself,_

_Take all the courage you have left_

_Wasted on fixing all the problems _

_That you made in your own head'_

_-Mumford & Sons: Little Lion Man_

Allen was finding it difficult to sleep at night. Narein's words continued to repeat in his head, and he couldn't shake how ominous they sounded. Perhaps it was silly of him to hang onto such words, but they were needlessly bothering him, to the point where he began reflecting on himself.

Narein had been open and honest by telling him what had happened. He had known that what he was to say could not be taken back, but he said them anyway. It was practically instant to see such relief fill him when he shared his story. Would he feel like that if he were to share his own story about Mana's resurrection and his subsequent imprisonment? Maybe.

The memories, unlike his bodily scars, were still too raw to cope with. But then, hadn't Narein dealt with the same thing, just a different situation?

This was all very confusing to him. He wanted to tell someone—anyone really—about what only he knew, but a part of him didn't. A part of him wanted to hold onto the painful memories and keep them locked away forever.

At least then he'd be safe. But for how long? The longer he kept such things buried inside him, the more painful it was going to get when they were finally brought into the light. If he shared his tale with Narein, though painful it may at first be, at least he'd get rid of the dead weight pestering in his chest. It seemed as though a little bit was placed upon his festering guilt with each passing day, making it more and more difficult to breathe in the metaphorical sense.

Self-preservation was probably what held him back sharing his past with his best friend. It was something he wanted to keep to himself, even if it burdened him with unnecessary pain. But it was a befitting punishment, wasn't it? He had sinned and this was simply what he deserved. A tortured soul and a crippled form.

Perhaps he was being a little harsh with himself, over critical of the situation that had brought him to this point in his life.

Would Mana have such depreciating thoughts about himself if their roles had been reversed? Maybe. But Mana was so much better than him. Mana would probably rationalize the whole situation just to find a good reason in light of all that had happened. In that regard, Mana was a better man, one he could only dream of becoming. Or merely imitate to the best of his abilities and recollection of the man.

Either way, it would've been better if Mana had lived that day, and he had been the one to die. His world wouldn't have been so off kilter as it was now. Because he'd be dead.

Just keep walking, he reminded himself. Maybe someday, sins could be washed away and he'd be able to share his story with someone, most likely Narein. And perhaps even forgive himself. Yes. Forgiving himself would be the best thing for him. He'd like that very much.

* * *

Restless sleep woke Allen to a sky bearing the beginning shades of dawn. All was quiet outside of the usual sounds of nature that he had, for the most part, learned to tune out. It was that time in every day that only happened twice; a subtle transition between the hours of the night to the hours of the morning, and vice versa.

He enjoyed this time of day greatly. It was the perfect time to begin his run, being neither too cold nor too hot. But today he didn't feel like running. Though he knew he should, he had neither the energy nor the desire to. His sleep had been too fitful. No, he wouldn't run today. But he had to do something else to maintain his training.

Stretching languidly as he sat up, Allen gave a smile to the sleeping Timcanpy, the golden golem rolled out on the grass seemingly asleep. He didn't know golems could sleep. Then again, he didn't know they could eat either. Or maybe that was just Timcanpy, seeing as how it was clearly different from the General's own square black one.

He felt compelled to stroke one of its thin wings that felt velvet to the touch, but quickly ignored such a desire. He wouldn't want to disturb the creature if it truly was sleeping. He knew he'd be angry if someone woke him from his own precious sleep.

Instead, he got to his feet and began stretching even further. His muscles felt battered and strained as he went about the motions of warming up for whatever he decided to do. Fatigue and general weariness lingered even as he became fully awake, reminding him of his terrible night and inability to maintain a few hours of decent sleep. A part of him felt miserable, while the other was too stubborn to admit that. He'd train, whether he was physically apt to or not.

He started the regime with a few crutches and lunges, quickly feeling the burn in his muscles. For the most part he ignored it, practicing various moves and dodging an invisible enemy. And, simply for the heck of it, he did flips and backbends, even standing on his hands and pacing forward a few feet.

It seemed he was at his peak of flexibility, something that would've been useful had he stayed at the circus. Thinking about the circus led him to thinking about Alina and Bell and all of his other friends. A pang of remorse assaulted him momentarily as he continued to think about them. He wondered what they were doing, how life was fairing back at the circus. Were there any new members to replace old ones? Did people miss him and Narein? Did they ever think about them every now and again? Was Cosimo still being such a d—

"Good morning, Allen."

The teenage boy looked up to see his mentor up and awake, his face stern yet kind as he regarded him. His concentration faltered and he fell to his stomach, his hands crying with relief. He settled there for a moment as General Yeegar moved away from the carriage to stand in front him. And then, unexpectedly, he lashed out with a kick to the boy's head.

Quick reflexes saved him from enduring such a blow, rolling away before the kick had the chance to connect. He tumbled back to his feet when another kick was sent at him, balling his hand and swinging a punch unquestionably at his teacher. It didn't surprise him when the move was blocked. So quickly he followed up with a palm strike to the man's chest.

Though the blow had been dodged, Yeegar gave an approved nod. "Good, " he said as he attempted to ensnare Allen in an arm lock, only to be flipped onto his back by this own weight.

He gave a surprised groan as he landed hard on his back, slightly winded. Allen looked just about as surprised as he felt, openly gaping at what he had achieved.

"General, I…" he sputtered, only to be swept off his feet by Yeegar.

As the old man struggled up to his feet he chastised, "Never let surprise stop you from executing your next move."

His words were immediately followed by a heavy barrel of weight to his chest, sending him plopping back down to the earth. Briefly the weight rested on his chest before easing away, leaving him face to face with a cheeky faced Allen.

"Mind following your own advice, _old man_," Allen said with a voice dripping with mockery and amusement.

A belt of deep laughter filled the air. Yeegar's face crinkled up with mirth as he shot back, "Who you calling old man?"

"You!" Allen chortled, still smiling even as he was cuffed in the head.

"Me? Oh now you're one to talk," chuckled Yeegar as the two continued their sparring in a much more heated fervor, inactive anti-akuma weapon thrown into the mix. Allen nimbly swayed from the path of the General's chains, attempting to avoid the pendulum-shaped daggers fastened at the ends.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Allen questioned as he batted away one of the oncoming daggers. Quickly he bristled with indignation as he deduced the meaning behind the man's words. "You mean my hair don't you!"

His only response was a smile before he was shouldered to the ground, soon admitting defeat. Lying sprawled out on the ground, chest heaving for air, Allen peered up at his teacher with look of respect shining in his eyes. A slight snicker left his mouth. "Defeated once again," he sighed.

"You gave up too easily," Yeegar panted, wiping at his brow. "I must admit, you almost had me if you had held up just a little longer."

His words brought forth a rush of pride in him.

* * *

Narein sat in his small tent, running his bandaged fingers along the water jug, deep in thought. He had felt a little better today, though he was sure his fever still remained. In spite of the sleep had had, he still felt weary, his stress induced illness having drained him of his vigor. He was nothing but tired, yet he yearned to step outside instead of being cooped up here in the tent. Perhaps of bit of fresh air would do him some good.

Slipping into his Finder garb, Narein slowly stepped outside, the rays of the morning sun blinding to his eyes. He suppressed a groan as he briefly shielded them as they began to adjust, attention soon focused on Allen.

His friend was several yards away, duteously doing pushups. General Yeegar did the same beside him, although instead of using his palms he used his knuckles. Even from this distance he could tell quickly that a competition was about to ensue by the way Allen was glancing at the man with a furrowed brow.

The sight brought a fleeting smile to his face as he settled upon the grass, idly plucking at some of the blades as he watched. Allen soon moved onto doing clap pushups, a smug look on his sweaty face. The General in return began doing them with only one arm. This soon spurred on rather creative methods of besting the other.

When Allen retaliated with getting into a handstand to do them, General Yeegar did the same in a much more quicker fervor. When the General moved to doing them on the seat of a foldable chair, Allen mirrored his actions on the top rail of a similar chair. It seemed neither of them could exploit another trick hidden up their nonexistent sleeves. But then, Allen proved them wrong.

With a great amount of deft and dexterity he tilted the chair onto one leg, balled one hand into a fist and brought the other behind his back. Though the arm balancing him precariously on the top corner of the chair shook, Allen held firm and carefully continued doing a few more pushups. Soon after General Yeegar admitted defeat by plopping to the ground, a sign that marked Allen the clear winner.

The way his friend whooped with triumph made Narein grin. It's been a while since Allen appeared so carefree. He hoped he would see it more often.

"Narein."

The young man looked back to see Thierry approach him, face strained. The sight left the young Finder feeling tense and anxious.

"Yes? What is it?"

"We're all needed in Barcelona. I've just received a call reporting an akuma ambush on the city and they need all nearby Exorcists to assist."

The news was well and dandy to know, but why did his fellow Finder have to tell him this as if he had say in the matter? "I don't understand why you're telling me this." Narein voiced.

"If you wish, I can have Andrew escort you to another, nearby company where you may continue to rest until you are able to return to the field." Thierry elaborated, appearing as anxious as he felt. Was he nervous about this new mission as well?

Given this option, Narein could put off the sight of war and death for another good week or so. He could be safe—presumably—and away from that which haunted him, even if it was only for a brief moment. But that wouldn't be right or fair. It wouldn't be something deemed honorable even when he had a legitimate excuse. His own guilt would probably make his fever worse.

Narein fixed his eyes on Allen and General Yeegar, noticing how they conversed with each other. They seemed so at ease. Then he thought about the battle that would surely commence, one that Allen would be forced to partake in. As much as he believed that his best friend was more than capable of dealing with akuma, he couldn't shake his fear for him. His stomach churned at the thought of Allen dismembered with his blood staining the ground red; he tried to not let the thought make him retch.

Exhaling a shaky breath, he returned his gaze to Thierry as he got to his feet. "When do we leave?" he asked evenly, glad his voice hadn't betrayed his rising fear.

"Do you mean you'll…?" Thierry began, leaving his question to hang in the air lest his assumption was proven wrong.

Narein gave a wan smile. "It would be cowardly if I were let my condition keep me from doing my duty. Plus, it would bring me more ease to see that my friend makes it through it in relatively one piece."

Thierry chose not to fight him over his decision even though it clearly displeased him. "Very well. Pack your things while I report this the General and Allen." He made to move away but stopped, peering over his shoulder at Narein. "This is your last chance to change your mind. Are you sure you don't want to seize the opportunity when it's right there?"

"Why do you insist that I leave?" Narein questioned, an edge of impatience ringing his tone.

"Because whenever there's a chance for me to save an innocent life, I take it," he dourly remarked as he walked off, leaving a troubled and fearful Narein.

His courage was wavering, but he'd be damned if his resolve did the same. He'd assist in any way he could, because that's what he signed up for. Even if that decision was one that he regretted with all his being. Only one thing reassured him of his entire predicament: He had Allen there right beside him.

Allen wouldn't let anything happen…right?

* * *

The ride to Barcelona was one riddled with tension and riled nerves. Allen sat opposite of Narein, and he noticed with worry that his friend appeared even worse than he had this morning. Once more his face appeared pale in spite of his natural tan skin, dark circles hanging under his eyes. He constantly fiddled with his hands, as if he needed to occupy himself with something to do. Allen found it annoying to watch, but didn't dare say a word on the matter.

It took nearly two hours for them to reach their intended destination, and even then they could already hear the sounds of akuma cannon fire and terrified screams from miles away. Everyone in the cabin grew rigid, not even daring to move as the coach came to a slow stop. Only General Yeegar appeared calm and collected as he rose, quickly issuing out orders.

"Narein, Thierry, I want you and Andrew to scour the city for any signs of survivors. If there are, lead them out from the north entrance. If that's impossible, then take them to the outer edges where the conflict should be less concentrated. Understood?"

"Yes, General." They both chorused, bowing their heads.

"If you don't go looking for trouble, trouble won't find you. Keep that in mind." Yeegar reminded before he directed to Thierry specifically, "Any word on support?"

"The last contact I had with Headquarters was the initial dispatch to all our radios. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to give a response because the connection was too spotty. With any luck, there should be at least one Exorcist who received the message as well. But when they'll arrive is one we can only hope will be soon."

Such news didn't please the General, but he accepted them nonetheless. "Very well. Hopefully assumptions will turn out to be truths," he remarked gruffly, turning to Allen. "Stick with me, lad. But before we depart, there is something that I must give you."

Allen nodded but couldn't get himself to pay much attention to him as he watched Thierry and Narein rise to leave. Before he had the chance to step out of the carriage, Allen seized Narein's arm and yanked him to a stop.

"Wait," Allen nearly begged, only lowering his hand when he was sure Narein wouldn't leave. His childhood friend gave him his full attention. "If you find yourself in trouble, and in need of help, just call my name and I'll be there."

His words brought a fleeting smile to the older boy's thin lips. "You really think that's going to work?" he questioned skeptically. Allen couldn't blame him.

"If you believe in it, it will work."

Narein sighed as he absently nodded, stepping back. "Take care of yourself, brother. I'll see you when I see you."

"Yeah, brother," Allen beamed, letting his best friend depart without further protest.

Allen watched Narein's back recede as he and the other Finder's went their separate ways, his friend running off down an alley to the far left. Though he wasn't much for religion in the strictest sense, he did send a silent prayer to God that everything would be alright in the end.

When he turned his attention back to General Yeegar, he was met with a face full of black and silver fabric. Catching the material as it fell away, Allen looked to it questionably. Yeegar couldn't help but give a small smile at the way his pupil stared at it with lack of understanding.

"It's your Exorcist coat. I figured today would be as good of a day for you to don it." Yeegar pointed out.

"But…this is only my second time on a mission," Allen sputtered, attempting to give the coat back. "I don't deserve to wear it yet!"

Yeegar kept his hands crossed behind his back, refusing to take back what he had given. Rightfully it was his, after all.

"Your first time in the field was just practice. _This_ is your first mission, and I want to wear your uniform. You deserve it, Allen."

Allen clearly looked like he didn't think so, but decided it would be unwise to continue arguing on such a petty matter. They were wasting time and the city was sure to be teaming with hordes of akuma. So quickly he shrugged it on over his usual attire, simply to satisfy his mentor.

"Come on!" he shouted as he jogged out of the vehicle, waving for the General to follow. "Let's go!"

Yeegar gave a snort of amusement as he followed. "Impatient as ever, it would seem."

* * *

As far as he could assume, there was no akuma in the area. This gave some relief to Narein, but not much. The streets were still paved with the bodies or clothes of the dead, buildings missing rather large chunks of drywall and stone. Smoke from scattered fires darkened the air, making it somewhat difficult to breathe. The sounds of battle along the lines of explosions and cannon-fire rattled the sound barrier, making the skittish Finder jump violently at every distant noise.

His heart raced with fear and his stomach felt tight; he tried vomiting in order to relieve the pressure, but all that came up was bile. Needless to say he wished nothing more to just find a secluded area and hide. But that would mean disobeying an order, and his own moral code. Besides, he had the chance to flee from this turmoil. He couldn't change his mind now.

Shouldering his large pack of supplies and communication system, Narein stuck close to the right side of the street, listening out for the littlest bit of noise. Every side alley he crossed he looked inside to see if there was any of his comrades huddled inside. So far he was out of luck, the only people he seemed capable of finding clearly dead. But that seemed to change as he climbed over some fallen debris and came across a small group of Finders clustered together.

Narein staggered in his moment of surprise, falling to a knelt position.

One of the Finders, a large, olive-skinned, dark haired, burly man in a desperate need of a shave, stood, face set in a grimace. "Who the hell are you?" he questioned brusquely, eyeing Narein warily.

"My name is Narein. I was recently assigned to General Yeegar's division of Finders."

"Is the General here?" a girl no older than himself with blonde hair and pale skin asked, lifting her bandaged head from her crossed arms resting on her drawn knees. Narein tried not to focus on the fact that blood marred the once clean gauze wrapped around her temple.

Her hope was not unfounded, and Narein gave a quick nod. A smile of relief brightened up her pale face. "He also has the new Exorcist recruit with him, my friend Allen."

"A newbie won't last long in a place like this," the older Finder remarked, much to Narein's irritation.

"Allen isn't as weak as you think!" Narein snapped. "He'll prove you wrong, you'll see!"

"Whatever keeps you going, kid."

Narein held back another sharp retort as he settled back, leaning against the opposite wall space. Silently he regarded the small group of Finders. There were three of them, all of them baring some kind of injury. The worst of them all was a young man lying on his back in front of the girl, chest rising and falling sparingly. There was so much blood.

He swallowed thickly, his throat burning with bile. It took a couple of deep breaths to calm his somersaulting stomach and racing heart.

"I don't think you ever told me your names," Narein stated, wiping at his clammy brow. He looked up at the sky for a bit of distraction.

"I'm Amy, part of the third regiment dedicated to protecting Innocence bearing cities and towns," the girl introduced before pointing to her bulkier companion. "That's Diego, part of the support group."

Narein flickered his gaze to the third person. "And him?"

"About to be dead." Diego grumbled as he paced a few feet away, his back to them all as he crossed his arms against his broad chest.

"Diego!" Amy shrieked in disbelief. The man merely waved it off.

A faint chuckle fleeted through the air and drew their attention to the severely wounded Finder. His bloodied face was pale and strained, but he managed to keep a wavering smile. With great difficultly he lifted his hand up off the ground and gave Diego the finger.

"Not…cool…m…man…" he croaked out, voice faint and quickly covered up by a chilling cough.

Amy stroked his sweaty auburn hair absently. "You have to relax, Justin," she whispered to him softly.

"J-Just…lea-leave…me…"

"We would if there was somewhere to go." Diego growled.

Tears sprang to Amy's eyes and she shot Diego a heated glare. "You're despicable!" she shrieked.

"It wasn't my idea that we take him in the first place," he bellowed back as he reeled on her, face reddening with anger.

"We couldn't just leave him alone to die!"

"Maybe if we had, neither of us would've been in the situation that we're in now. Ever think of that?"

His antagonism sent Amy jumping at the large man, fully prepared to claw his eyes out had Narein not stepped in and intervened when he did. With a bit of difficulty he held back the raging young woman, making sure he kept himself between them as he tried to take a hold of her wrists.

"Everyone just needs to calm down," Narein said in a low tone. "If we don't stay quiet, the akuma will surely find us!"

Instantaneously Amy broke down, collapsing in a heap of tears and hearty wails. Narein, anxious and jittery, lowered himself to his knees and clamped his hand over her mouth, pressing her close to his body.

"_Shh…"_ he silenced. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

Amy stared at him with wide, watery eyes but otherwise made no response. Narein wasn't very inclined to remove his hand even when it was clear she wasn't going to cry her lungs out any further. Diego, for his part, appeared peeved.

"I don't think it matters, kid. There's no way of getting out of the city. Let her cry all she wants." Diego dismissed, face becoming sullen with defeat and acceptance.

Narein let his trouble show. "What do you mean? Is the north entrance barred?"

"The city is surrounded by akuma. The chances of us even moving just a few blocks is…is…" Diego trailed off when he noticed Narein not paying him any mind. The boy appeared tense and skittish as he looked around, a fact that irritated the older man. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, shifting to his knees as he pulled away from Amy and began to rise. He could've sworn he heard something.

"What?" Amy squeaked, growing rigid with fear. "What is it?"

Diego's face set into a grimace as he snapped, "The kid's c—"

His words were decimated by a sudden explosion at the center of their gathering.

The blast sent Narein flying back, slamming into a thick slab of concrete. Pain flared on the right side of his head, a cascade of blood rushing down that side of his face. Briefly it felt like he saw stars, his vision darkening and spotting. Everything felt so distant until he registered the heat of fire, the smell of burning flesh, and the sound of tortured screams.

In spite of his better judgment, Narein scrambled to his feet and ran. It didn't matter where he was going, or if anyone had survived. His natural instinct was to flee, even if his chances of escaping were, for the most part, relatively slim.

He ran, even when he realized he was being followed.

"My, my, what a curious little thing you are!" a voice chortled even as it hurled explosives.

One of the attacks went off near his left foot, the rush of flame to the limb knocking him unbalance. He fell forward and landed hard, palms scraping ruthlessly on the ground and ripping up half-healed scabs. Frantically he patted out the fire that was burning his foot, wide eyes staring at the approaching akuma.

When he had finished patting out the fire with his hands, Narein desperately scrambled back, struggling to rise to his feet. His blistered hands and burnt foot cried out in protest, forcing the frantic Finder to crawl in a pathetic manner, relying on his knuckles and knees.

Breathless wheezes and gasps tumbled out of his mouth, sweat and blood trailing down all parts of his face. Panic forced his heart to beat faster than he ever thought possible, and for a moment he even feared he'd be pushed into a heart attack. He was so frighten, believing with every fiber of his being that this was it. He was going to die, and he was scared.

Coward. This is what you deserve for leaving those unfortunate Finders behind.

The akuma was upon him in seconds, its shadow looming over his shivering body. Still he tried to escape, even when he was all but cornered. The abomination cocked its bulbous head to the side, a toothy grin stretching on its mechanical face, eyes alight with twisted glee. It sent forward one of its grossly disproportional arms towards Narein, small hand wrapping around the back of his neck; the heated touch elicited a bloodcurdling scream.

Seconds felt like agonizing hours as the fabric and skin at his neck was burnt away. He was in so much pain that didn't even realize that he had been released until he felt his body hit the ground and his ears registered an unexpected explosion. Then he felt a rush of hands to his shoulder, the delicate touch sending him reeling on the person, ready to flee.

"Relax. I was just seeing if you were dead or not," his savior griped, leaning back on his calves.

It was an Exorcist, though one he had never seen before. The Exorcist was male, probably about his own age, with a golden ball-like object tucked under one of his arms. His coat was a cloak with a long, pointed hood pulled over his head. With the exception of his face, every bit of exposed flesh was bandaged, and Narein couldn't help wondering if it was because of a severe injury or mere choice. A purple mark ran under each eye, adding to the jester-like persona the person was presenting. A sardonic grin was on his face.

"Narein?" another voice cut in, this one obviously female.

The young Finder looked to his left to find a familiar face—even if it was one he couldn't quite attach a name to.

The female Exorcist stepped forward, entering his field of vision as she got down on her knees. A look of concern was dominant in her violet eyes as she said, "It's me, Lenalee. What happened here?"

Narein tried to remain coherent as he replied, "Transmission from…headquarters…General Yeegar and Allen…here…somewhere…" His disjointed speech was followed by a wet groan, face growing paler with each second.

He looked like he was going to vomit. Instead he passed out.

* * *

"Don't get carried away by the thrill of victory," Yeegar remarked. "You forget we still have more akuma to vanquished."

Allen nodded, watching the soul of the akuma drift away to the nether regions of some divine realm.

Both males were littered with soot, dirt, and blood, painting a rather unsightly picture. Thankfully their wounds were that of mistakes rather than inflicted blows, both cautious enough to dodge the fist-sized bullets of some of the akuma. Even the slightest scratch from the discharge would've been the end to General Yeegar; Allen's parasitic anti-akuma was apt enough to rid his body of the virus. But then he'd have to face the trouble of enduring the after effects of harboring such a wound, something he wasn't too keen on facing.

Still, such strenuous action was leaving the pair exhausted and ragged breathed. Muscles burned from strain and wounds once considered minor stung with pain. It felt like they had been fighting for days, when in reality it had not even been an hour.

Barcelona had been found easily over ridden with unimaginable amounts of akuma, a reason neither Exorcist could fathom. Had this strike been planned or was there a strong amount of Innocence in the area?

"_I'm afraid you're right with the first, Exorcist_." A voice murmured inside Allen's head, causing him to stiffen with alarm. Yeegar noticed this and eyed his pupil wearily.

"Allen, what is it?" he questioned, only to be answered by a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned, coming face to face with a young girl with dark, spikey hair, ashen-colored skin, and golden eyes. A sweet grin was on her face that contradicted the venom that showed in her eyes.

"So your name is Allen," she cooed, "how cute…"

"State your business—" Yeegar began, only to be cut off by the girl.

"Quite, old man!" she snapped, shooting him a vicious glare. "I'll deal with you later."

To Allen's horror his mentor fell to his knees, his eyes glazing over with a look that he couldn't identify as his arms hung limply at his sides.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded, eyeing the man with worry.

"Sent him away to relive painful memories. I don't need him interfering after all."

He turned his attention to the girl, watching as she slowly trotted over to him. He had a vague feeling that the two of them had met before, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"It was back in that village. I was that little girl that needed saving, remember?" she supplied, this time verbally. It annoyed him how she was capable of listening in on his thoughts!

"Stop that!" he shouted, her ability frightening him. Just what else was she capable of doing?

Her sweet grin became a fond smile, showing a glimpse of an older spirit in a much more youthful body. She came to a stop just few feet in front of him, eyes focused on his face. Her own features softened even further.

"What's the matter?" she mocked playfully. "Does a little girl scare you?"

Allen bristled at the taunt, his Innocence flexing nervously. "I'm afraid of what you are," he growled. "You are not just some little girl."

She stared at him evenly before relenting with a shrug, pacing away idly. "You're right, I'm not just some simple, little girl," she sighed, spinning on her heel to face him again. Her expression was startling sad, to the point where it caught Allen off guard. "Sometimes I wish I was though, but don't tell the Earl that!" she added that last part hastily, as if she was ashamed of ever having thought such a thing. Allen couldn't understand why.

Wait. Earl…as in the Millennium Earl?

He looked to the girl, waiting for a response with narrowed eyes. She giggled, "You're so cute, thinking I'd know your question! But you're right, that's who I mean. You know, he wasn't very pleased when I told him about you after our last encounter. Even I was surprised by how he reacted!"

Allen could tell that the girl was trying to rein in his interest as a means of lowering his guard, but he just had to ask, "Why would the Earl care about me?"

"He has a lot of reasons to care about you," she commented, face darkening. "You're the product of something that hurts us even to this day."

Her words sent the cold shiver of dread down his spine. "What…what do you mean?"

"You know, you weren't very easy to find," she continued, ignoring his question. "The Earl sent us to various cities in order to wreck-havoc just so that we could get your attention. What were the chances that the city _you'd_ go to was the one I occupied? I have to say, fate or chance or whatever the hell is out doesn't like either of us, to arrange such a meeting."

This girl was making no sense whatsoever! Just what was so special about him that would have the enemy pillaging cities and towns in search of him? He had never met the Earl before, so he couldn't say it had been something he had done directly to get the man's attention. But something had, and that small, insignificant point troubled him beyond measure.

He was knocked out of his thoughts when he felt a small, delicate hand stroke his face along the jaw in a tender manner. His eyes seemed to hone in on the despair that shone in the girl's oddly colored eyes, an emotion that he felt was being reflect back into him. A stream of mixed emotions accompanied this feeling: betrayal, passion, anger, and longing.

This discovery left him so distracted that he didn't even try to stop her from touching his face, even if it making him partially uncomfortable.

"You look so much like him…" she murmured to herself, trailing tapered fingers across his small nose.

Allen scraped the question that instantly came to mind in favor for one that was much more pressing. "Who are you?" he asked in a whispered tone.

She smiled appreciatively, drawing her hand back slowly. "I was wondering when you were ever going to get around to asking me that…" she admitted, stepping away. "They call me Road."

"And what are you…doing with the akuma? Are you an akuma?"

He hardly believed his second question needed to be asked, for his left eye hadn't reacted in their entire time together. But if she wasn't akuma, then what was she?

"I'm a human, silly!" she giggled, her smile growing malicious as she noticed the strained look he was giving her. "What's that look on your face for?" Road asked, amused.

"Humans aren't meant to be with akuma!" Allen exclaimed, clearly troubled by her alliance with such fiends. "Akuma were created to kill humans…"

"But weapons can be used by humans to kill other humans, right?" she posed, effectively leaving him baffled. She continued, "The Millennium Earl is my brother and we are a part of the few chosen ones. Unlike you Exorcists, who only believe they are the chosen ones when, really, you were chosen by a false god. We are the true apostles chosen by God. Noah's family."

The title struck a chord within Allen, sending a resonance of familiarity throughout him. All these vague feelings and distant remembrances were becoming disconcerting, to the point where he placed his gloved hand against his head. He was starting to get a headache.

Road notice his dilemma and her face softened once more. "I can see you're confused. You don't believe I'm human?"

She quickly embraced him, wrapping her arms languidly around his neck. Allen stood rigid, unsure of how he was supposed to react.

"Can you feel it?" she whispered into his ear. "Can you feel my heart beat in tandem with yours?"

"That doesn't mean anything," hissed Allen.

"But isn't this what it feels like when two humans embrace?"

Allen looked away, grimacing. Why was everything getting more and more complicated all the sudden? His brow furrowed as he asked, "Even if you being human makes us the same, then…why…"

Road gave a hearty laugh that sent a chill throughout the young Exorcist.

"The same?" she chuckled. "I don't think we're quite."

It happened so fast, Allen didn't register it until it was too late.

She took a hold of one of his Innocence's large talons and abruptly yanked it to her head, allowing it to collide angrily to the side of her face. Allen silently gaped as she fell to her side, releasing the hold she had on him. He fell back on his bum, eyes wide with shock as his face drained of what little color had remained.

He stared at her shredded face, stomach spinning. "Why…?" he sputtered in disbelief. "You…"

In the blink of eye she was in his face, hands gripping his collar. He stared horrified at the flapping flesh and hanging muscle sinew. Bile rose in his throat and fought off a gag.

"We are superhuman, who've inherited the genes of Noah, mankind's oldest apostle," she murmured, mouth moving with some difficulty as her face began to heal. "We're different from you lowlifes!"

With another bout of inhuman speed, Road sent her right forefinger flashing forward, jabbing Allen painfully in the left eye! Her nail pierced his cornea and went straight through his eye, the assault causing an eruption of blood and an explosion of agony.

A blistering scream filled the air as Allen doubled over, his anti-akuma weapon deactivating instantly. Once Road extracted her finger, Allen clamped his hands over the wound, howls still ripping past his throat. Blood poured too easily onto his palms, terrible throbs sending forth spasms of pain. Road relished the scene she had created, even having the gall to laugh as she licked her soiled finger.

"You see, we're different." Road remarked as Allen's cries died down to lesser groans, now laying on his side and allowing his wound to bleed out freely from his ruined eye. "Filthy carcasses…you're so easily broken. And the fact that you're an Exorcist just makes it all the more worse. I figured you'd last longer, but I guess I was wrong."

Allen remained silent, concentrating on just breathing through the pain, however difficult it may be.

Road pouted at his lack of reaction, skipping over to where the boy laid. Lowering herself beside him, she didn't fail to notice the way he flinch as she stroked his white hair, spotted pink with blood.

"Now, now," she cooed softly. "I'm not about to let you end the fun by dying on me, so how about we play a little game. Do you like games? I like games…"

Her fingers trailed to his temple, pressing lightly down on the surface. His good eye instantly grew vacant, staring dully at what was in front of him. Tension left his body and he completely sagged to the ground, completely helpless to the subjections of a mysterious girl as his mind was banished to the inner workings of his thoughts and dreams.

Road could've killed him right then and there, torture his body while she went about destroying his mind. Instead, she laid down beside him, draping his left arm over her waist. She nestled her back into his chest, breathing in deep.

It felt like old times.

* * *

_Author's Note: This chapter got so excessively long, that I'm going to split what was to be one chapter into two. The next chapter won't come right away, but it will come sometime in April, hopefully. _

_Thank you everyone who has reviewed! I hope you all keep reviewing until the very end._

_Also, I've gotten a new beta! __**LaraOXM**__ has been kind of enough to take up the role of beta, after Allen the Musician, my previous beta, kind of disappeared from the site. Thank you, LaraOXM, for finding the time to look over the chapter and point out things that needed fixing._


	31. Hear the Chanting of Our Sorrow

Ch. 30

'_Ain't going to play nice_

_Watch out, you might just go under_

_Better think twice_

_Your train of thought will be altered_

_So if you must falter be wise'_

_-Rihanna: Disturbia_

Komui sneezed.

It was storming terribly outside, adding an unpleasant chill to his already cold office. The Chief wiped at his nose with a stray handkerchief, feeling lethargic and miserable. It was times like these that he wished his sister were here to hand him a mug of fresh brewed coffee and one of her sweet smiles that always seemed to lift his spirits. Unfortunately, he could receive neither of those pleasures, for Lenalee had so recently been sent to Barcelona for support and the coffee wasn't as great when he made it himself.

He missed his sister dreadfully, and though he had full faith in her abilities, he could not help but worry that with each parting that they took, it would end up being the last. He'd rue the day that he get call saying that his baby sister had fallen in the line of duty. If such a day were to happen, then Komui might as well count himself dead as well.

The soft rasp of someone knocking on his door drew the Chief out of his somber contemplation, the man mustering up a smile as he called for the person to enter. His eyes befell Reever's and Johnny's forms, the pair carrying stacks of paper that required his signature. Komui deflated at the prospect of having to do _real_ work.

"Oh hello there," he greeted a little too brightly, scribbling on a piece of paper in hopes that it would convey that he was working to his two subordinates.

"We need these forms approved by you, Chief." Johnny informed, hoping Komui would have some sense to comply for once instead of finding some absurd way of worming his way out of it.

Komui scribbled faster, brow furrowed in concentration. "Can't you two see I'm busy right now?"

Reever leaned forward—quite the feat for someone who was carrying a large stack of paper in their arms. He peered at what the Chief was writing upon and couldn't help but scowl.

"No you're not!" Reever exclaimed, clearly flabbergasted. "You're busy drawing a picture of Lenalee. And failing, might I add."

Komui covered his drawing with his arms, looking at Reever indignantly. "Am not!" he whined.

"Are not what? Drawing a picture of Lenalee or failing at it?"

Before Komui could come up with a reply, his phone rang. Praising glorious timing, the Chief gladly answered it, met with the stern voice of Kanda, the sound cracking from the poor connection.

"_I've located the Innocence and about to head back to Headquarters."_

"That's wonderful!" Komui beamed, glad to hear this news. With every piece they found, they got one step closer to finding the ultimate prize: the Heart.

"_Yeah, sure,"_ Kanda curtly remarked, his next words overtaken by Komui's desire to keep the conversation going as long as possible.

"So how was your stay in Bordeaux? I don't know much of the place, but I expect it can only be charming. How's the weather there? It's raining cats and dogs here, if I do say so—"

"_The Earl left a message that's borderline insane."_ Kanda cut in, bearing an air of irritation and impatience.

Komui froze at the Exorcist's words, serious professionalism taking over him as he straightened up and sent a sharp gaze at Reever and Johnny that warned them to remain quiet. "Go on." instructed Komui after a moment's pause.

"_He said the real game begins now."_

The Exorcist's vague message was very troubling indeed, even more so when all the phones in his office began to ring as well, going off one by one. Reever and Johnny rushed to answer them, each bearing a similar message from various Exorcists and Finders all across Europe and parts of Asia.

Chief Komui sat at his desk with the phone still at his ear, watching his two friends scramble amongst various phone consoles to answer a different caller bearing the same message. He could see the struggle in their eyes as they fought to remain calm with each time they had to hear the message again and again. It was the very same thing he was feeling at this moment, though he himself didn't have the luxury of actually conveying it.

Instead he kept his face unreadable, finally hanging up the phone after realizing that Kanda was no longer on the other end. He stared pensively at his hands as he steeple them together, mulling over those profound words.

Just what did he mean by that?

* * *

Allen blinked once. Twice.

He was in a world of endless darkness, where physical dimensions held no meaning. And yet, they were there, if the solid ground in which he sat on was proof enough. Candles of varying wicks hung suspended in the air, providing a bit of illumination that seemed to contradict his reasoning of their being ground. The light was casting down as if there was no floor, beaming on into the inky void with no end in sight.

He didn't know why he seemed to fixate on that so much.

A pair of arms lazily encircling his neck in a lose hold startled him nearly out of his skin. He held himself well though, only going as far to give a mild flinch as he turned his head to the side, a warm cheek nuzzling his own. A part of him melted at the gesture. The other was throwing a despicable tantrum.

"Where am I?" was the first thing he dare ask, a question that was pressing on his mind.

Road gave disappointed cluck. "You can't hazard a guess, little clown?"

The nickname made the teen bristle, every fiber of his being alert for some kind of trick to happen. She noticed the way the pet name had irked his nerve, and can't help but grin. He's so easy to provoke. Just like his father.

For a moment, just one, she regretted what she's doing. This is the child of the man she had once loved. By hurting the boy, she's hurting him in extension. But he deserved it, and much more. He should've thought a little better before bringing a child into this damnable world she's come to love and accept.

That feeling of regret passed.

"Well, Allen? Care to wager a guess?" she asked sweetly, patiently waiting for a response.

He fidgeted uncomfortable and she realized that he doesn't have an answer worthy of saying. It disappointed her and she can't fight back the noise of disgust as she pulled away. The way he tensed further and looked over his shoulder brings her a bit of satisfaction though. He understood that she's his lifeline in this world they've created together. He needs her. And that brings her a bit of hope.

For what, she doesn't fully understand.

"Fine…" she exhaled slowly, conveying her disappointment blatantly to him with the droop of her small shoulders. "Since you can't even guess, I'll just tell you. We're in a dream. Your dream, to be precise."

Allen turned to her to see her fully, his confusion evident by his knitted brow. "My…dream…?" he repeated, as if the phrase was foreign to his tongue.

"Yes, that's right. We're inside your own head. Isn't it great?" That last part was added with a giggle, one that infuriated Allen to no end.

"How do I know you're not lying?" he snapped, face darkening with fury as she continued to laugh, this time at him.

Her laughter stopped abruptly, her face draining of any mirth that had been there before as she became startling serious. This sudden change brought a bit of pause to Allen as he eased up to a knelt position, eyes trained on her. Road cocked her head to the side, looking off to the distance away from him. Her eyes were strangely sad.

"I could never lie to _you_…" she seemed to murmur to herself, smiling bitterly at nothing in particular. It only served to set him on edge.

When she turned back to him, her expression was once more devious and playful as she stepped towards him, trailing her palm against his cheek while she began circling him. His head twisted after her so his eyes could follow her, only to find her gone. The ghost of her touch still lingered on his face, sending forth a shiver down his spine.

"Where'd you…" he began, only to become startled when her voice echoed back all around even though she wasn't there.

"_You may be a clown, but it will be I who will be doing the tricks here today. Just sit back, relax, and try not to let your mind get broken too quickly."_

Allen gaped momentarily as he stood at his full height, then he closed his mouth and clenched his jaw. He did not like the meaning behind her statement. But then, he wasn't supposed to. It was supposed to bother him, like it was now. And that itself was pissing him off.

Silence blanketed the world in an unnerving sort of calm, one riddled with promised threats and haphazard surprises. Tension left his body rigid as he stood there, completely alone. He waited for something to happen. But nothing did.

Five seconds. It was still too quiet.

Ten seconds. His heart was starting to race with anticipation.

Fifteen seconds. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Was it really that loud?

Twenty seconds. The sound of footsteps nearly made him flinch.

His initial instinct was to turn towards it, to ease his mind out of this state of apprehension. But he was afraid of what he might find. It could just be Road, toying with his nerves. Or it could be something else entirely. And that's what frightened him. What if it was something so ghastly, so terrible, he just might very well break right then and there? Wasn't that the point though?

If it was who he thought it was, then he might as well get this suspense over with. And hey, who knows, he could be wrong.

Allen inhaled a bracing breath as he turned around.

His heart nearly stopped and his mouth grew dry. A part of him felt his mind begin to crumble, his sanity stretching thin. He licked his lips, lost for words even though he isn't entirely surprised. But he is. He can't deny it. And he nearly laughs at how silly this all is. Why is he surprised by something that he knew would happen?

Then the feeling that almost compelled him to laugh twists so sharply that he now wanted to cry. Because he's breaking, and nothing has really happened yet.

Body racked with trembles, Allen looked to his new guest with eyes glossy and red-rimmed. His throat tightened, and it's suddenly a little harder to breathe.

He gasps the one word his mind can muster, and it comes out as a question.

"Mana…?"

The clown gave a warm and endearing smile as he drew up to him. Allen didn't want to believe that what he saw was real, but it was too hard not to. Maybe that's why his guard slipped just a fraction. It was just enough for him to ignore the sudden patter of rapid paws running across the nonexistent floor, heading towards him.

It was the sound of barking that really grabbed his attention, forcing the boy to look away from his clown-garbed father to see what was approaching. He found, to his amazement, that it was Tramp, the little terrier leaping into his arms eagerly.

Allen nearly laughed as the dog for which he had not thought about in years nuzzled its wet nose against his cheek, yipping gleefully.

Everything felt like a…

Cold dread surged through him, and as he began remembering what Road had said about not losing his mind, it was too late.

Canine teeth clamped ruthlessly on the soft flesh of his throat, gnawing viciously, and his stomach twisted and burned as a thick barb erupted from his middle in a blossom of blood.

Allen struggled not to cry, fought against the burning sensations in his eyes. So instead, he surrendered himself to another emotion that was, in hindsight, far more despicable than the one that wanted him to sob.

He started to laugh.

Not because of how ironic the situation was beginning to feel or because of his own stupidity for letting himself just momentarily forget where he actually was. It was because he could feel it. His mind was starting to teeter back and forth, already fragile from a harsh life that felt to be decades ago. And there was nothing he could do about it.

He was about to shatter.

* * *

Road sat with her back pressed up against the wall space of a brick building, legs drawn out. Gentle fingers ran through Allen's white locks in a soothing manner, his head resting peacefully on her lap. The blood from his left eye socket had begun to coagulate, caking that side of his face in a thick layer of gore. But that didn't bother her. In fact, she thought it was kind of beautiful.

Briefly she looked to the Exorcist General, noticing his hands twitch with unconscious spasms. He was just sitting there though, staring blankly at his lap. That was good enough for her.

A curious smile slowly grew on her face as she continued to stare at him. She wondered what was going inside his own head right now. She had just placed him in an endless void after all. Maybe now it was time to bring it up a notch. _I wonder how much harder it'll be to make him scream,_ she wondered to herself.

* * *

Kevin Yeegar did not like the looks of this place.

The space around him was nothing but darkness, distilled only by the few candles that hung suspended in the air. An eerie sort of quiet befell this place, setting the Exorcist General on edge.

"Welcome, General Yeegar." Road greeted sweetly as she walked out from behind him, twirling a pointed candle around her nimble fingers. "I hear you were a teacher. Is that true?"

Yeegar eyed her warily, keeping his face keenly neutral.

"Well are yah?" she asked with a hint of impatience.

"I was…" he relented, tone guarded. "But who, may I ask, are you?"

"My name is Road, and I'm from the clan of Noah, ever heard of it?"

"Clan of…Noah?" the General repeated, the words sounding distantly familiar.

Road stopped in front of him, smiling up at the man. "That's right. We're the true apostles who've sided with the Millennium Earl and his akuma."

"Why would a human ever dare to do such a thing?" Yeegar questioned, voice tightening with barely permissible disbelief.

"We're not human," Road waved off with a simple giggle. When she sobered she added, "We're super-human."

The Exorcist General appeared skeptical, but paid close attention. He watched her closely as she began pacing again. "Your body language suggests that you believe what you say to be true," he pointed out. "But that doesn't make me believe it."

"Fine, then let this dissuade you from your preconceived notions, you old coot." With a flourish of purposeful hand motions, the darkness began to lessen and her body began to fade away until there was nothing left.

Soon the General found himself in a place that he very much dreaded, one that he had thought he had left buried deep inside his heart. Perhaps that was the reason why it was being brought up, to be exploited as his unfortunate weakness. If so, then this girl knew him well, however that was possible.

Though his face remained stern and unaffected, his heart raged with turmoil as he stood in front of the small school house he used to teach at until life took the unexpected turn that would lead him to where he was today.

Yeegar watched his younger self gaze at his fawning students huddled around him, all eager to gain his attention. The further he watched, the more his heart twisted with the shackles of despair pulled tight within the confines of his chest. It ached for him to watch this play out, all those oblivious to what only he knew. The carnage that was to follow.

"Stop this now." Yeegar hissed, knowing that the strange child would hear his demand.

Road appeared behind, form strangely translucent as she rocked back and forth on the tips of her toes to the balls of her feet. A thin smile stretched across her lips, pulling back on the youthful roundness of her face and making the girlish planes sharper than what they appeared to be. In just that one moment, a flash of a much older person took over her features.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she mocked cruelly, making sure to remain outside his line of vision. It wasn't too difficult, given the man's age and deteriorating eyesight. "Now wasn't there a student of yours who turned herself into an akuma? Joanne, wasn't it?"

The General refused to answer, though the way his hands clenched into fists was enough for Road.

The scene changed, morphing into the inside of his old classroom. Children stood around a particular girl who's face remained blank and pale as her fellow classmates greeted her with the utmost enthusiasm.

"Why isn't that her right there?"

Indeed it was. That ignorant girl who let her own grief take a hold of her heart too tightly. She stood there, quivering slightly. None of his former students seemed to take notice. Perhaps if they had, things might have ended differently. Or perhaps not. Either way, General Yeegar could not allow himself to endure such a cataclysmic event ever again.

Just as Joanne was amidst her transformation and the other children took notice, the General lunged forward, swinging the length of one of his chains towards the immerging akuma. The blow landed, resulting in a satisfactory explosion that denoted the akuma's extermination. A sense of fulfillment bloomed inside the old Exorcist, one that was quickly squelched when he noticed the door open and Joanne walk, the other children unaware of his prior actions.

This stunned Yeegar, allowing Joanne the time to transform once more into her akuma body and this time kill all of her classmates. Blood and dust flew, leaving the mark of death on all the walls, the desks, and the floor. A dank haze obscured his vision, making it hard to make out what was happening. When the smoke cleared, the scene had rewind itself again. His former students stood circled around Joanne.

"_You're an Exorcist. Shouldn't you be slaying the akuma?"_ Road's voice taunted, echoing all around inside his head. _"They were just innocent school children, it's too bad you weren't as strong back then, otherwise you could've saved them."_

General Yeegar could not say how many times he witnessed this one scene, how many times he destroyed Joanne, how many times he failed. He'd attack and Joanne would then return. It went on endlessly without respite. The strength of his body and mind were wavering, steadily depleting of the resources to keep going.

Sending a futile swing at Joanne's akuma shell, the General wavered when the scene repeated again. It was too much, having to bear witness to his heart's inner most torments. His pupils were dilated from the encroaching fear, heartbeat stuttering rapidly in his chest.

"Stop this…" Yeegar repeated with a voice reduced to breathless pants and desperation. "I beg you!"

His students were slaughtered again just as Road's laughter filled the air, mingling with the sounds of screams.

Though his will had once been strong, Yeegar could not stand to bear this torment any longer.

Hands that shook clutched the sides of his head and the General let loose a scream of his own, the sound withering with grief and failure. He fell to his knees, scrunching his eyes shut and moving his hands to his ears. His attempts of escaping this nightmare were futile however, and even though his eyes were close and his ears were covered, he could still see it and still hear it.

The darkest day in the General's life repeated endlessly without pause, Road's illusion ensnaring his once keen mind inside a web of torture and insanity.

He just wanted it to stop. Just wanted it to end.

* * *

Narein woke suddenly to the sound of unrelenting cannon-fire. Senses jolted into awareness by the noise, he sat up too quickly and a sharp spasm of pain assaulted his body, causing him to gasp. The stench of burnt flesh and metallic blood was stuck in his nose, sending his stomach into rolling fits. He made to retch, but nothing but hot bile and blood would come up.

"Try not to move so much, or you'll start to bleed again." Lenalee advised, sitting beside him as they stayed sheltered outside the entrance of a bakery.

The young Finder looked to her with blurry eyes. It took him a few seconds to realize that his own blood was clouding his vision, and it made him gag.

"H-How long was I out?" he asked, voice gravelly with disuse.

Lenalee tried to appear sympathetic as she replied, "Just a half hour if I had to guess."

Narein nodded, although the action brought him a bit of pain.

"Lenalee, your help over here would be very much appreciated!" Daisya shouted, kicking his bell as hard as he could at a cluster of encroaching akuma.

Lenalee informed him that she'd be there soon before turning to Narein. She stared at him right in the eye, a strange look rising up in the amethyst irises. "I have to go. Don't move unless you have to. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Narein leaned back against the sturdy foundation, exhaling a wet sigh as he watched Lenalee rush off into the din of battle.

She never did say what her eyes told him, and for that Narein was glad. He didn't need to hear it, didn't need to be reminded of the possibility that grew more and more true with each ounce of blood he lost. She was wrong though, she had to be. He was going to be fine. He would just wait this all out and hope Allen was alright. His best friend would come and assure him that he'd live, that his wounds were merely superficial. Then they'd head back to their new home to recuperate, maybe share a few laughs for the other's benefit. Everything was going to be fine.

A sudden tightness in his chest warranted a round of chilling coughs. Though his arms felt like deadweight at his sides, Narein managed to bring up a hand just in time to cover his mouth. Hot liquid landed on his palm, the substance thick and sticky to the touch.

Thinking it just wads of saliva and mucus, the Finder let his arm fall back to his side, unaware that his hand was stained red.

* * *

Allen rolled and thrashed upon the black ground, screams cut off by the set of teeth digging into this throat. He heard each rib crack one by one as Mana continuously kicked him, the man shouting words that Allen didn't bother to pay attention to after the first minute. All around them the people of the circus he grew up in jeered their enthusiasm, spitting out words that would've made him cry had he the will to listen to them.

He struggled to fight, but his heart wasn't truly in it. After all, he'd never dare lay a hand on Mana. Even if the man was beating him to death.

His vision began to darken when he felt a particularly sharp, stabbing pain shoot up his right hip. Pain ebbed into numbness as his senses began to fail him. Smell, taste, touch, hearing all left him and just as eyesight began to do the same, a different type of darkness suddenly shot out from the endless abyss.

The clown and dog paused in their work, turning their blank gazes over to where a hooded figure stepped slowly forward. The figure carried its own luminance, setting itself apart from the black stain that was the space they were in. Mana and Tramp watched the person closely, mirroring the looks of intrigue that Road herself had at this moment even though she was not physically there.

Allen didn't understand what was happening when Tramp suddenly darted off of him and Mana's blows seized. Looking about him, his eyes fell upon the tense figure that stood waiting for the terrier to come at him. He wore a tattered and bloodied Exorcist coat, deep hood pulled over his head and bushel of white hair covering his eyes and the scar that was sure to be there. His left arm was in the shape of a mighty claw, one that appeared to be out of proportion with his body.

It was him. He was it.

A wave of confusion assaulted him as he sat up, unaware of the fact that his once damaged body was inexplicably mended. He watched with rapt attention as his doppelganger attacked Tramp without hesitance, swiping at the dog with a strong blow that ripped him in half. Tramp gave a high pitched yelp before melting away into the darkness. The copy took a moment to mourn the terrier's passing until he was assaulted by Mana, at which point, he promptly spun away. The boy's lips moved, uttering words that could not be heard.

Things got even stranger after that. Before Mana could send another blow at Allen's copy, another, separate figure tackled the clown from behind, trapping him in a headlock as he was pinned to the ground. The newcomer had no features Allen could readily make out, his body mere black shapes wearing an expensive looking white cloak. The thing—for Allen dare not call it a man—pounded ruthlessly on the clown's back, left unimpeded even as the doppelganger approached. In fact, his copy joined in, thoughtlessly tearing at Mana's body in a manner that Allen could hardly stand to watch.

Allen swallowed hard and kept his eyes close as he turned his head away, body trembling as an image of that strange pair destroying his father arose in his mind's eye. Ghastly screams filled the air, bouncing off of nonexistent walls. The sound of splatters accompanied them, making Allen's stomach spin.

When the screams had long since silenced, the young Exorcist chanced taking a look, his eyes boring into the figures as they stood in front of each other. The two beings stared at one another, holding a conversation that was not expressed through words. Neither moved, transfixed with the other as they continued to speak in their strange form of communication.

After a few curious head tilts and wild gesturing, the two seemed to have reached a suitable agreement for they both turned their heads over to Allen. The Exorcist tensed as they stepped towards him in delicate pacing, matching each other's steps. He thought to run, but realized there was nowhere for him to go, nowhere to hide. Besides, he probably wouldn't be able to escape them anyways.

In seconds they were upon him, standing over him as they stared down. Both appeared captivated, though it was hard to say why when he couldn't read either of their facial expressions. His doppelganger looked to be politely gazing and the shadow man couldn't stop grinning. The thing had had it on his black face the entire time he had emerged into this strange dream.

"Who are you?" Allen questioned anxiously, scooting away just a bit. "What are you?"

The reply resonated inside his head, bearing two voices that mingled harmoniously with each other to produce a pitch and tone that was indiscernible and genderless.

'_Don't be afraid.'_

Such a short statement brought inexplicable calm to Allen as he sat there, fully believing their words to be true. He felt at ease upon hearing it, suddenly very trusting of this bizarre pair that stood before him. Whatever was to happen next, he knew it would be alright. He was prepared to face whatever circumstances were to come next.

His doppelganger and the shadow man shared a look before the latter stepped forward, resting a black palm upon Allen's forehead. The copy stood on guard, rigid in tension as he stared out into the darkness. Unspoken words passed between the pair before the doppelganger darted swiftly away, charging headlong to face the wave of circus folk that were being sent in by Road in an attempt to disrupt whatever was transpiring.

'_Close your eyes, and count to five.'_

Allen did as instructed, eyes falling shut as he took in a few measuring breaths. He felt at peace, willing to do or accept anything that may be presented to him.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One…

* * *

Road was caught by surprise when Allen suddenly jolted awake, his only functioning eye opening. The two stared at each other for merely a second before a strange look came onto the Exorcist's face that Road didn't like. The Noah girl tried to move away, but the boy possessed astounding lightning fast reflexes, his left hand wrapping tightly around her throat. She gasped, hands clawing at the one grasping her neck.

"Let…m-me go!" she rasped in between breaths, kicking and scratching him. She even ran her nails along the bloody mess on the left side of his face, but that brought no affect. He just stared at her, a look of despair on his features.

Sitting up, Allen caught Road once more by surprise as he leaned forward and captured her lips with his. Road went rigid, eyes wide with shock as she was kissed by the Exorcist boy. The kiss wasn't much, lacking heated passion and love. What it carried was only regret, a taste she had become most familiar with.

Pulling away after a few seconds, he leaned his forehead against hers, exhaling softly. He mumbled something that Road couldn't catch, and she strained to hear what he was murmuring until he punched her in the side of the head. His hold around her neck lessened and the resulting blow to the head sent her flying to the side. She hit the brick wall of a building hard, crashing unceremoniously to the ground.

When she picked herself up, she noticed that the Exorcist's face had gone cold, a cruel glint flashing in his eye.

Road rubbed at her broken jaw, pushing it back into to place so that it would mend properly. "What the fuck was that?" she questioned darkly, far past being coy and playing games at this point.

Allen's reply came in the form of action, the boy charging at her and slamming her back into the wall. Stone cracked at the strength of the force, denting to form a small crater. Road felt one of his hands go across her face and he began to push and pull her head repeatedly against the alley wall. After enduring this six times in a row, Road grew fed up and braced her feet against his chest. Mustering up an abundance of strength, she delivered a kick with enough power to dislodge him from her and push him back against the opposing wall.

Stumbling on her feet, Road brushed a hand across the back of her skull, fingertips coming back a thick red. She stared at her blood—the only evidence of her prior mortality—and proceeded to lick them delicately as the wound at the back of her head healed.

"You shouldn't do things like that. It isn't very seemly for a girl to taste her own blood."

Road froze.

That statement, she had heard a similar one being said years ago.

She stared at Allen, once again noticing the similarities that he shared with the deceased Musician. Was it purely coincidence or was it…

She didn't have long to contemplate theories because he was upon her again, attacking her without restraint. Punches and swipes assaulted her face, the blows knocking her off balance. The fight continued upon the floor, the pair rolling and thrashing in a tangle of limbs.

As the battle persisted, Road felt a steady rise of pain inside her head. She tried ignoring it at first, but too quickly it became white hot and that resulted in an unfortunate slipup. Her control on both Exorcists' minds loosened, freeing them from their psychological torment.

Yeegar gradually stirred awake, eyes opening slowly to reveal just a glimpse of his tortured and tormented soul. Though he was fully conscious, his mind was still consumed by the horrors of his past repeated to him. He was left unaware of what was occurring, believing to still be trapped in his very own nightmare. All he saw was Joanne transforming once more into her hideous akuma self.

"Stand…behind me…my students…" the General mumbled as he stood up and took a solid stance. His tired eyes stared at Road and Allen's tangled forms. Readying his weapons, the old Exorcist swung forward with as much strength as he could muster, the attack hitting them both.

Allen was hit in the thigh, the blade sinking straight to bone. A part of him felt it crack, but adrenaline managed to dull some of the pain. He gave a grunt, glaring at the senile man with anger.

Road was more fortunate, receiving just a shallow cut to the forearm. Regardless, his assault infuriated her. With the flick of her wrist, she conjured up a swarm of candles and sent them flying. Most of them missed, but a few struck home and buried themselves into the General's lower abdomen. The old man gave a shout as he crumpled in on himself, holding his wounded side as he yanked back the length of chain whose knife end was stuck in Allen's leg.

The boy's eyes bugged as agony came with the knife's removal, his hands clamping over the gushing wound. He curled slightly on himself, muffling shouts through clenched teeth. Road didn't pay him mind, catching the chain that had been thrown back at her. Yanking on it, she pulled Yeegar off balance and pounced on the unsuspecting man.

With chain still in hand, the Noah girl bound the man's arms together and dug the knife end into his chest. The man convulsed once before falling silent, his eyes closing shut and his face relaxing. He fell onto his back with a hearty thump, laying still and hardly breathing.

Road then took the head of the other chain and crushed it in her palm, effectively destroying the piece of Innocence that gave the weapon power. Brushing off her hands together whilst giving a pleasant sigh, she turned to her left to check on Allen and was met by a punch to the face. The blow sent her stumbling back, knocking into a cluster of garbage.

Allen was over her in seconds, pinning her to the ground with his knees. His hands went to the sides of her head before she could stop him, turning them sharply to the right. A loud snap resonated in the air and the Noah girl's body went limp.

He stared at her lifeless body, watching patiently as it began to disintegrate away in wisps of smoke. His face scrunched up darkly, his eye steeling with malice as he warned threatening, "I'm sorry this had to happen, but I couldn't let you break this body. He's mine. Next time I won't be so kind."

"_Who _are_ you?"_ Road's fading voice asked.

"I think you know the answer."

When no reply was given, the young Exorcist knew that Road was gone. Leaning against the wall he now stood beside, Allen covered his eyes in a sign of exhaustion, an oddly bemused smile stretched across his lips.

He could claim this body. Take it before the other half fought him for it. It'd be his to do whatever he wanted.

The wondrous thoughts seized when pain flared to life all across his body. He fell to the floor in violent spasms. His consciousness began to fade, a fresh rise of agony reminding him that his plans were going to have to wait. The other half wasn't about to let him break the momentary truce they had agreed upon in the name of protecting their shared host. It would fight him without abandon and struggle to hold back the darkness.

It would fail though, eventually. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

Minutes dragged on, feeling more like hours to Narein as he sat there. Some of his wounds had reopened when he tried to get up, having grown tired of just sitting there waiting. Blood ran thick and hot across his soiled uniform coat, standing in contrast with the pale fabric. His body shook with tremors from the shock, skin pallid with the mark of death. Beads of sweat trailed the sides of his face, his forehead burning up. He felt as though he was both cold and hot at the same time, a sensation that did not bode well.

"Allen…" he rasped softly, voice too quiet to carry more than a few inches from his face. "Where are you? I thought you said you'd be here if I called you?"

Something must have happened if it was taking him this long to get here. Forget about the whole stupid 'not coming when called' deal. Almost an hour must've gone by without their paths crossing. Barcelona wasn't as huge as he once believed it to be. He should've seen him by now.

What if something happened? What if he was hurt? Or worse…dead?

The troubling thoughts added to his already rising fear. As he sat there, steadily bleeding out, Narein became startling aware of his own mortality. Merely thinking about Allen's death made him think of his own and how much of a possibility it was soon becoming. There were signs, but he refused to see them. He could not die, not yet. He had too much to live for, too much to experience before it was his time to go.

He was a simple man, an ordinary man. He had never expected his circus life to lead him out onto the battlefield of a secret war. Perhaps it had been wrong of him to insist on joining Allen on this insane journey. It's brought him nothing but pain and grief, and now it was leading him to death.

For just a moment, he allowed himself to get angry at Allen. Why though, he could not say in the greatest detail, but he needed someone to blame. Of course, he had no one to blame but himself. And if, should he been given the chance to do things over, he might as well admit that he wouldn't change a thing. Not even if it meant his death.

Still, it brought him a bit of ease to place the blame on someone else's shoulders.

The feeling of anger was quickly washed away by his returning fear, his heart picking up in beats.

"I don't want to die…" he admitted to himself, eyes watering and throat tightening. Tears trailed paths through the grime on his face. "I don't want to die alone."

Broken sobs followed such words as Narein began to accept his horrible fate. There was nothing that could be done to save him at this point. The volume of his cries rose at this startling realization and Narein shattered completely. He allowed the tears and snot and blood to flow, too tired at this point to move his arms to clean his face.

He hoped it didn't hurt any more than it did now.

He wanted his death to be quick.

* * *

Allen gave a pained groan as he came to, blinking open his good eye. It took him a moment to process the sight of his mentor sprawled on his back, but when he did, he immediately scrambled upright. Getting to his hands and knees, Allen let out a sharp yelp when his entire leg throbbed as weight was put on it. The boy looked and noticed the bloody tear at his pant just over his thigh. The leg had then gone numb, much like the left side of his face.

Painfully and slowly he dragged himself over to where the General lay, pulling himself up beside the man's head. Sitting back, he brought his left hand just over Yeegar's nose, patiently waiting to feel a breath. It came after a few long seconds when Allen was starting to worry. The small exhale was enough for Allen to believe that his mentor had a chance.

"General," he called softly as he lightly patted his cheeks. "General Yeegar, please wake up."

The man gave a grunt before he tiredly opened his eyes. A glazed look stared back at him, filled with pain and exhaustion.

Allen tried to remain hopeful as he asked, "Are you able to get up, General?"

General Yeegar's mouth flapped open, moving as he struggled to speak. It took him a few tries before he was able to grate out, "Was…I able to protect you…my students?"

Allen didn't know how to respond to that. He could only nod, unsure if the question was even referring to him.

The old General seemed pleased with the response, smiling softly before falling back into unconsciousness.

Left alone once more, Allen tried to keep himself from growing frantic as he struggled to think of a way to save them. There was no immediate help in the vicinity as far as he could tell. And General Yeegar didn't appear to be in the condition to be getting up and walking if his wounds were any judge on the matter. It appeared things fell to his shoulders, even though he himself was grievously injured.

Regardless, he had to get them out of there.

The first thing he decided to do was tearing off a bit of his coat tail and wrap it tightly around his wounded thigh. He fought back tears and held back screams as he tightened the makeshift bandage, able to feel his broken bone move at the pressure. He almost passed out from the pain, his vision spotting dangerously. A few deep, measure breaths was enough to calm him down and keep him awake.

From there he pulled the Exorcist General to him, burying his shoulder into the man's armpit and taking a hold of his belt at the back. When he was sure the man's weight was on him, Allen devised a way of getting them up. Through a combination of shimming and pushing, the boy was able to stand after what seemed like forever. The process left him feeling drained, but he knew that this was hardly it. It was only the beginning of a long and painful walk to find help.

* * *

When the battle was over and the fight was won, Lenalee returned to Narein with Daisya all but reluctantly following. She stood a few paces away, gazing at the boy sadly as her heart twisted inside her breast. Solemnly she bowed her head in respect, sending out a prayer to God that Narein's spirit obtained peace.

"What?" Daisya questioned brusquely, peering over her shoulder to see. When he did, his face lost the mischievousness commonly there. "Oh…that's what."

Lenalee nodded, all the while wishing she could've known her fellow Exorcist's friend more. At least then she'd have a few nice things to say about him.

The sound of shuffling and mild cursing sent the two Exorcists on edge, both wheeling towards the direction the sound was coming from. They were prepared to activate their Innocence when they took notice of the moving blob of black and white. It was then that they were able to discern that it was two Exorcists: Allen Walker and General Kevin Yeegar.

"Oh God…" Daisya remarked, echoing Lenalee's own thoughts. There was so much blood.

"Help!" Allen croaked weakly, shaking terribly as he took a step forward, dragging his right leg and with it a trail of red.

When he was about to collapse, Daisya and Lenalee were at his side, the former taking the General while the latter took a hold of Allen. She fought off a wave of repulsion at the sight of his face, blood heavily caked on the left side.

"What happened?" she asked, unable to believe that such wounds could be a result of an akuma attack, at least, not in the General's case.

Allen leaned himself onto her, wheezing for breath. It took him a minute or so to regain it, and when he did, he murmured, "Attacked…by this girl. She said she came from…the clan of Noah."

Lenalee furrowed her brow together, confused. In all her years of serving as an Exorcist, never had she heard such a term being used. Maybe he was making it up, maybe he was mistaking it for the girl's name. He was losing a lot of blood after all; he could just be delusional.

"Allen, are you sure you aren't mixing something up?" she asked patiently, readjusting her hold on him when all of his weight came down on her.

He looked at her, exhaustion heavy on his features. But amidst it was anger for not being taken seriously. "I don't forget…a girl who took pleasure in poking…my eye out. Her clan…works with the akuma…"

Humans working with akuma? Since when did that start?

"How many are…still alive?" Allen asked, distracting her from further contemplation.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Daisya—the Exorcist that accompanied me—and I took out what we could of the akuma. I think they're all gone, so if they are, I'll call Headquarters and have them send a recovery team to search for any survivors."

"And the dead?"

Lenalee instinctively turned her head to Narein, eyes clouding with sorrow. "Yes, they'll be collected as well."

Allen followed her gaze when she didn't turn back to look at him. His heart leapt into his throat and his stomach dropped, his already pale skin draining to a chalky white.

"Narein?" he called disbelievingly, pushing away from Lenalee's supporting arms.

She did nothing to stop him, gave no excuse for him to go to his friend. She merely hugged herself and turned her head away, eyes falling shut.

Allen stumbled as best as he could to his best friend, panic rising inside of him. Each step brought him closer to the bakery that Narein sat at, patches of blood pooled on the ground. The flesh at his throat was riddled with burns, the resulting wound showing signs of heavy bleeding and trauma. Allen made sure not to look at it long, but staring at his face was much worse.

A look of distant surprise held on Narein's still face, his eyes staring unseeingly up at him.

The strength in his legs went out and Allen fell to his knees. His mind didn't register the sweltering pain in his thigh, to busy focusing on his friend's dead face. Cold dread filtered into his system, causing him to surrender to painful disbelief.

Taking a fist full of his tan coat in each hand, Allen shook him desperately. "No. No, no, no, no, no, no. No!" he gasped frantically, willing for his friend to come to life. "You can't be dead. You just can't. You were supposed to make it out of this alive."

He craved for his friend to reply, but when he didn't, Allen lost it after that.

"NO!" he screamed, pushing away from Narein's corpse and falling on his back. He violently clawed at his face and pulled at his hair, thrashing out at nothing as he howled his grief for all to hear.

Lenalee flinched away from the sounds, unable to escape them even when she covered her ears. As it persisted, she steeled herself to approach and took a few steps towards him. She crouched beside him, meeting his feverish gaze but knowing that he couldn't see her amidst his panicked state of mind.

"I'm sorry…" she said with a great amount of empathy as she brought one hand over his mouth and used the other to pinch his nose. She held him like that as he squirmed, his screams muffled by her hand. It was quick though, and soon Allen passed out.

She hoped his dreams would be better than his reality.

She doubted they ever would.

End of Act 2

_Author's Note: Sorry this took so long guys. But guess what? It's summer for me! Updates should be quicker seeing as how I don't have much plans of doing anything. _

_And for those of you who guessed it, you were right, Narein did die in this chapter. He was meant to die the moment a reviewer (pardon me for forgetting who it was, but you know who you are) suggested that he tagged along. I think everything ahead, see, plan it out before I'm even close to writing it. And sometimes, if I super excited about an idea, I write that part ahead. Just to give you an example, I wrote Mana's death scene after I wrote the second chapter. I also have the prototype of the ending written out. Eager? I believe so. But if you're worried about this story ending any time soon, don't. This story still has quite the number of chapters left before I'm through with it. I can't give an accurate estimate at this point how long this story will be, but do know that it will definitely be over fifty chapters. By how much, I'm not sure. We'll just have to wait and see._

_Thank you all who've taken the time to review, favorite, and alert. It brings me satisfaction to see this story liked. _

_I hope you all look forward to the beginning of Act 3!_

_As a last note: Don't take things in this chapter for granted. There's a bit of significance in this chapter that hints at what is to come._


End file.
